The Devil You Know
by daccu65
Summary: Montgomery Fiske was gone; turned to stone and set on the path of the Yono by the deal he had struck. Yet, what affects did his bargain have on those who survived the confrontation? As for Monty, sometimes redemption really does begin in hell.
1. Chapter 1

_Dear Potential Reader:_

 _The characters appearing in this tale are not mine, they belong to the Mouse-eared Empire. I am merely borrowing them to tell my own story. This story is not intended to generate profit; it was written strictly for my enjoyment in writing and, hopefully, your enjoyment in reading._

 _This is a sequel to the tale "A Servant's Loyalty." It is not time to look a little into what has become of Montgomery Fiske._

 _That said, please enjoy..._

* * *

Prologue:

How does one measure time?

How does one measure time when he has no clock or watch? Does he look to the sky, to see it get light and dark? What if he cannot see the sky, does the beating of his own heart serve to track the minutes and hours that pass?

What if his heart isn't beating?

What if his eyes couldn't tell light from dark, what if his ears couldn't hear the sounds around him?

The last sight Lord Montgomery Fiske had seen was an infant, twirling him around as if she were dancing with him before leaping onto him and sending him tumbling to the ground. He had only a moment to contemplate the consequences of his defeat before all went dark...or was it light? All he knew was that he had lost all sensation, could not feel his limbs or judge the time that had passed. If he understood the terms of the pact to which he had agreed, he would now be forced to serve the Yono, but what did that mean? Was he serving even now, merely by existing? Was he existing? Had he been here for seconds or for centuries? Was he anywhere?

And then, he was somewhere.

There should have been some sort of dramatic entrance; falling from a great height, perhaps clawing his way out of a grave. Instead, he found himself standing, wearing his usual attire, in what appeared to be a lush jungle.

"Welcome, my latest asset."

Fiske spun, recognizing the deep voice but flinching anyway when he saw...

"Yono?"

The monkey-demon didn't respond, at least not with words. A slight smirk showed on his muzzle and Fiske was wracked, head to toe, inside and out, with searing pain. Moaning in agony, he fell to the ground.

"You may now call me master," the monkey informed him. "Or even Master Yono." The pain ended and Fiske gasped at its memory even while he struggled to his feet.

"Very well, master," he replied. "How am I to serve you?"

"A refreshing lack of false bravado and defiance," Yono noted. "You amuse and disappoint me at the same time that you impress me. Follow."

The small primate strode through the jungle, Fiske quickly fell in behind him.

"I make a point to personally greet my new acquisitions," Yono told him, with no more emotion than a man explaining to another how to get to a grocery store. "This gives a few moments for questions, so that I do not need to make messy examples. I prefer a quiet and orderly realm."

"May I assume that I am in hell, master?" Fiske dared ask.

"It has been called that," Yono answered. "And many other things. What you chose to call it matters nothing to me. What should matter to you is that this realm is mine, and it is me. My will holds sway over all."

"As you just demonstrated," Fiske noted.

"Yes, my latest coin," Yono smiled. The monkey turned and looked at Fiske. "Your very body belongs to me, to do with what I wish...which reminds me, you do not need all that you currently have." The Yono's eyes squinted, ever so slightly, and pain rushed through Fiske once again. It was not as severe as when Yono punished him and was quickly gone, leaving Fiske feeling...empty.

"I have left you your lungs, mouth and tongue," Yono informed the man. "So that you can answer me when I speak to you, but you have no need for a nose." Involuntarily, Fiske's hands flew to his face, confirming that blank flesh sat between his mouth and eyes. "I have left you your ears to hear, and your eyes to see. Your limbs remain complete and hale," Yono continued, now turning and continuing his journey, pulling Fiske along by sheer presence of authority. "Yet other systems have been removed; circulation, digestion, waste extraction, reproduction, you need none of these here, so I have removed them."

Again, involuntarily, Fiske patted at his body, confirming that a certain appendage was now missing.

"You...monster!" Fiske blurted. "Why have you taken these from me?"

"Fool!" Again, pain dropped Fiske to the ground. "I have not taken them from you! Did I not say that your very body was mine? I explained this to you not a moment ago; you do not need them, so I removed them!"

The pain ended. Fiske scrambled to his feet and rushed to catch up to his master, who had not broken his stride during his latest admonishment. He noted that the trail Yono followed was going down a slope, and the ground was growing muddier with the descent.

"Now, you must also know that there is no escape," the evil monkey informed him, once again calm. "You will probably try at some point, but will find that there are no walls to bind you here, this realm is now the limit of your existence. This is now your infinity, for eternity, all for the deal you struck with me."

"And how long has it been since I fell at the Yamanouchi School...Master Yono," Fiske scrambled to add the title, seeing the smirk start to reappear on his tormentor's face.

"It is a pointless question," Yono laughed. "Time passes much differently here than it does where you used to dwell."

"How can that be...master?"

"Because I chose it to be so."

They continued to walk, and the ground continued to descend. Fiske noted that there was wildlife, but it was an odd mixture. There were the birds, amphibians and reptiles that he expected to see in a jungle, but they were an odd mixture of those he had seen in jungles in Southern Asia, Central Africa and even South America. Some, he didn't recognize. There was the occasional rustle in the underbrush, and he wondered if the rodents and other small mammals making such noises were also from many, diverse locations. Then, the hooting and yammering of a happy band of monkeys sounded through the dense foliage.

Looking up, Fiske saw the troop arrive. Much like the other fauna he had observed, it was a mix of Asian, African and American primates. The creatures shrieked their reverence towards the demon, but howled at Fiske with disdain.

They continued to walk, with the ground growing wetter. The Yono didn't seem to notice, he simply drank in the monkeys' adoration as he traveled. His feet made no mark in the mud, no splashes in the water and his robe remained clean and dry as the muddy trail gave way to a waterway through dense reeds and water-dwelling trees. Fiske slogged along, struggling to maintain his pace as the water slowly rose to his waist.

"Ah, here we are," Yono noted. The waterway had emerged from the high vegetation to reveal what must be a shallow lake. Lily-pads and other floating plants coated its surface, but there were no trees to block the view across the water. On the shore, perhaps a half-mile to their left, a band of perhaps two-score, human figures were tearing at the ground and cutting the vegetation.

"They are draining this lake," the Yono told Fiske. "You will join their labors. I will know when you finish your task. I will make a suggestion; it will be quicker for you to swim to them than to struggle through the swamp and jungle. If you take too long to take up your first task, I will be displeased."

And then, the Yono was gone. Deciding that he had no other choice, Fiske waded deeper into the lake, then started to swim. Slimy things slid along and around his legs and unseen, aquatic life circled around him. Choking back a shriek of fear, he continued to swim. As he approached the workers, he noted that monkeys infested the trees above them, howling their disdain and occasionally showering the humans with fruit, sticks and fecal matter. Sighing at his lot in life...or the afterlife...he set himself to endure what he must.

As he waded out of the deeper water, a man came forward to meet him. From the man's complexion and build, Fiske guessed him to be from Southern India but his attire appeared antiquated, from centuries past. The man stood before Fiske and presented his arms, held across his chest, right above the left, displaying that they were covered with tattoos that consisted of innumerable dots.

Unsure what to do, Fiske offered a slight, greeting bow.

"Display your arms!" The man snapped at him. "Or are you new here?"

"Actually, I am," Fiske retorted.

"Ah, fresh meat! Follow me!"

With nothing better to do, Fiske did as directed.

"For each labor you complete, Master Yono will tattoo a spot upon your arm," the man told him.

"How long has it taken you to acquire yours?" Fiske demanded.

"We do not count time in days or years," he chortled in return. "You will see soon enough. Time is only counted in labors. Should you harm one with more tattoos than you have, you will be punished." He gestured towards the monkeys, who were once again showing the workers with debris and filth. "Harm a monkey, and all humans nearby will be punished."

By now, they had reached the other workers. Fiske didn't have time to study them before the apparent leader seized a stick and prodded into the water. In response, another man, with rocks lashed to his ankles, lurched from the muddy ditch.

"Master Yono has ordered us to drain this lake, and the swamp that surrounds it," the leader announced. "To do so, we are digging a channel to lower ground. As a newcomer, you will spend more time digging below the water."

The man who had just been freed from the lake removed the rocks from his lower appendages. Not wanting to create trouble, at least not until he knew more about his situation, Fiske tied the rocks to his ankles, took up a sharpened stick, and plunged into the muddy, reeking water.

* * *

When you lived an abnormal life, normalcy was abnormal.

Kim thought of this as she and her boyfriend retrieved their bags from the overhead bin and waited in line to exit the plane. She tried to count the times that the two of them had crossed the Atlantic, but quit when she reached two dozen. She then reflected on the fact that the two of them had actually done so on a passenger airliner four times. Most of the time, they were in a cargo bay, they occasionally wound up on a military or Global Justice aircraft. Actually queuing up to go through customs seemed oddly...odd...for someone so used to international travel.

"Miss Possible," a voice addressed her as she stepped off of the jet bridge and onto the concourse. She turned to see a middle-aged man in an impeccable suit.

"Yes," she answered. "Mister...?"

"It's actually Earl Snidely," the now identified nobleman informed her. "And perhaps I could have a word with you and your companion...in a more private setting. I can assure you that your baggage is currently being delivered to this location, and that you will more than save any time you spend speaking to me by not having to go through customs."

"Let me guess," Ron spoke up. "If we don't agree, the customs officials will become suspicious and decide to give us and our baggage a very, very thorough examination?"

"I had hoped to avoid crass threats," the man assured the duo. "But if it should come to that...yes."

"So I guess it's time to talk," Kim shrugged.

"This way, if you please."

Lord Snidely offered a light nod before turning and leading them on a course away from their original destination. Ron offered a slight snort at the nobleman's choice of words before falling in step with the redhead. Kim offered her boyfriend a conspiratorial smirk at the implied choice of courses. Although she didn't know if she appreciated his sarcastic tone towards Snidely, which might have caused some unnecessary animosity, she had to admit that the blonde probably wouldn't have picked up on the implication even a couple of years ago.

For all that she both liked and loved her companion, she had to admit that Ron could be foolishly stubborn at times but somehow, Coach Roughman had managed to drive some lessons into that thick skull. Ron was attending Upperton University on a football scholarship, and his natural athleticism, enhanced by his years of sidekick activities, simply wasn't enough to keep him on the team. Faced with the prospect of losing his scholarship, and a resulting separation from her, he had knuckled down and started to work at becoming an outstanding football player.

 _Games aren't won on the field, they're won during the preparation_ , was one of Coach Roughman's favorite sayings, and Ron had come to accept it. Not only that, he had applied that lesson to other aspects of his life. _Exams aren't aced during the test, they're aced during study time_. _Missions aren't accomplished in the villain's lair, they're accomplished in the planning._ Somehow, the acerbic coach had made Ron take life more seriously, so the two of them also attended a dojo at least once a week, who's Sensei was most likely a Yamanouchi plant, during the off season. The results had been wonderful.

His grades had come up, the missions were going more smoothly and the two of them were closer than ever. She grinned, thinking that perhaps the saying could be expanded; _dates aren't made successful during the date, they're made successful in the day-to-day interactions_.

"Ah, here we are," Earl Snidely announced, breaking her out of her daydream. The nobleman led them into a conference room, one that was probably reserved for members of some airline's executive club. It was clear that this Earl had a respectable amount of authority if he could acquire such a room. "Please, won't the two of you be seated?"

The two followed his suggestion, sitting side-by-side on one side of the table, making it most convenient for him to sit towards the center of the table, opposite them. He offered a brief, shallow smile at having been preempted from taking the head of the table.

"Miss Possible," he began. "Before I am so crass as to ask your reason for visiting Great Britain, I shall explain my reason for doing so. Your celebrity precedes you and while I don't suggest that you bring trouble where you tread, you often stir up existing trouble in the process of eliminating it. That said, I must ask you now, what brings you to the kingdom?"

"We're investigating some odd goings-on at the Fiske Estate," Kim answered, deciding to match honesty with honesty.

"Ah..." the earl offered a short nod. "It seems that when you visit our fair isles, you spend the majority of your time either at the Fiske Estate or Killigan's Island."

"You didn't seem very surprised that we're checking out Monty and not Duff," Ron observed.

"I'm not," Snidely admitted, now steepling his fingers in front of his face. "And I note that you admit that you intend to investigate dear old Monty, not his property. You realize, of course, that he hasn't been seen for well over a year, and that the Queen herself has seen fit to declare him legally dead?"

The two teens looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"So you know more than what the general public does," Snidely concluded. "Perhaps you even know the...special circumstances...of Fiske's status?"

"Why don't we quit the word games?" Kim suggested. "We know that Fiske was turned to stone, we're pretty sure that at some point, Dr. Amy Hall recovered him and that Mr. James Bates recovered Fiske from Amy and brought him back to his estate."

"I must admit that your directness has a certain charm to it," Snidely offered her an approving nod and smile. "But I must now ask, what has prompted you to investigate at this time?"

"Our technical support man has detected anomalies in the purchases that Bates is making in Fiske's name," Kim answered. "Shortly after Monty... _got into trouble_...the estate's purchasing became very practical; no antiquities, religious or spiritual items. For a few weeks after Bates purchased a statue and had it delivered to the Fiske Estate, these purchases remained practical. However, he has recently purchased some items that are supposed to have supernatural value."

"And this makes you suspect that Goodman Bates is up to something...out of the ordinary?"

"We made a deal with him, when he was in America," Ron answered. "We kept out of his way while he got his master back. He was supposed to bring Monty back here, then leave sleeping monkeys lie. He's not doing that."

"If your suspicions prove accurate, he's betrayed me, as well," Snidely sighed. "He's supposed to keep me appraised of any alterations to the current situation. He has proven to be a steady, if unimaginative, caretaker for Fiske's estate and finances. Every financial transaction he has made has contributed to the maintenance of Fiske's properties, or has enhanced Fiske's wealth." Snidely fixed the teens with a firm gaze. "Every move that Bates has made has been to benefit his master, therefore I must conclude that the purchases you describe are for the same reason...but how do they benefit Fiske?"

"I think we both have the same suspicions," Kim answered.

"Indeed," the earl took a deep breath. "Let me pose a question to you, what harm will come should Bates succeed?" He held up a hand, silencing Ron's answer. "I understand that the two of you have a history of animosity with Monty, and I fully acknowledge that he was in the wrong and an aggressor most of the time. However, the two of you have regularly defeated him, so why wouldn't you be able to do so in the future?"

"Only a fool allows an evil man to continue his schemes," Kim grumbled. "All of the times we've stopped him have been very close things. If he had just planned a bit more, if we had been a bit slower..."

"Miss Possible, my position within Her Majesty's government has made me privy to information outside the scope that most enjoy. While I don't know the details, it is suggested that the worldwide invasion last year wasn't turned away simply by that Drakken chap's plants. Certain rumors persist that two teens played a key role."

Neither teen chose to comment.

"If the two of you have evolved to the point that you can stymie an extraterrestrial invasion, what threat could Fiske pose to you?"

"It's not just Fiske," Ron grumbled. "It's what he's involved with. I don't know the details, but anything that messes with Fiske could involve...something else."

"Something that frightens even the two of you," Snidely finished. The nobleman thought for a short time. "Very well," he reached a decision. "While I have a bit of a free hand, it would be best to work with you rather than against you. Please conduct your investigation."

"Let me know if you find anything," he continued, handing both teens a business card. "You may have difficulty believing this, but you will find me surprisingly open to accept certain ideas that stretch the bounds of logic. By extension, I am open to certain suggestions that you may come up with."

"Earl Snidely?" Kim asked. "Just what is your job?"

"Why, to make sure that Her Majesty's nobles don't create too much trouble," he smiled at her. "If the two of you will make your way to customs, you will find that your baggage has already been passed through, and the officials will stamp your passports and see you on your way. You have undoubtedly already arranged for transportation, so I will not interfere." He paused. "I suspect that Bates is deceiving me and for a cause that he feels is right. If your suspicions prove true, it is perhaps time to take a certain statue out of his possession."

Nodding to the man, but not wishing to discuss the situation any further, the two teens left him and made their way to the customs check. As promised, their baggage had already been passed through and probably hadn't even been checked. The officials asked them few questions, welcoming them into the country. Once through customs, it was a short wait for a delivery van to show up. The driver thanked Kim for helping him some years in the past with an infestation of myopic porcupines before driving off to the south, towards the Fiske Estate.

Kim had long ago learned the value of being unpredictable. Even though the British Government had learned that they were visiting the kingdom, there was still an excellent chance that Bates remained blissfully ignorant to their proximity. There was a village just a few kilometers from the mansion, and it was here that the teens left their ride. A quick check of the topographic map, projected from Kim's wrist-mounted Kimmunicator, confirmed the route they would take. Without further discussion, they started their approach.

The first leg of the journey followed a stream bed, keeping a low hill between the teens and the mansion and circling around the structure so that they would approach from a side that Wade's thermal imaging scans revealed to be rarely occupied. Both nearly jumped out of their skins when a masked figure suddenly stood from a clump of heather.

"Stoppable-san, Possible-san, I humbly ask your forgiveness for startling you," a familiar voice emerged from behind the mask.

"Yori?" Ron asked, his eyes almost as wide as his mouth.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Kim demanded, her voice perhaps a touch more harsh than it should be, due to being frightened.

"Yamanouchi has certain concerns about the activities surrounding Lord Fiske," the young woman explained, pulling off her mask. "Experts have unearthed additional information about the nature of the Yono, which bring up dire concerns about DNAmy's possession of the statue. We at Yamanouchi lost track of Dr. Hall, so Master Sensei dispatched me to determine if either she, or the statue, are here. Shortly after I arrived in the country, I was informed that the two of you had acquired tickets to London. I waited here, upon your most likely route of approach, to suggest we combine forces and information, should you be performing the same investigation."

"That makes sense," Kim nodded, her voice now much more reasonable. She quickly outlined what they knew about Bates' trip to the U.S., his purchase of a statue, and the odd purchases Wade had discovered after delivery.

"It is as we feared," Yori told her friends. "Possible-san..."

"Yori, since we aren't in Japan right now, maybe we can skip the honorifics," Ron interrupted. "It will save a little time and I'm sure you're capable of mimicking English and American ways of speaking."

"Perhaps you are correct," the ninja nodded. "Kim, Ron, when we saw footage of the United Nations' ceremony honoring Dr. Drakken for repelling the invaders, we noted that Fiske's statue was in the possession of Dr. Hall."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that," Ron mused. "How did she get into Yamanouchi to dig him up?"

She did not," Yori informed him. "When the Yono is dormant, his temple is always found in Simian Canyon, no matter where it appears when he is active."

"So it's a supernatural thing," Kim noted. "Why hasn't Yamanouchi put a watch on the site, or tried to get someone to build something over the site?"

"More supernatural manipulation," the ninja answered. "Over the centuries, any building constructed in Simian Canyon quickly collapses and any occupants suffer losses. While people may wander the area with no misfortune, any who go there to watch the area seem to suffer misfortune. I believe that an agreement between powers greater than us dictate that those who are reckless enough to call upon the Yono will have access to him."

"Okay, so Amy didn't have to deal with the ninja," Ron shrugged. "She dug Monty up, so what's the big deal?"

"Just as the temple is always found in Simian Canyon, the Yono is always found upon it when it is unearthed," Yori told him. "The three of us, Rufus and Master Sensei saw Fiske sink into the ground. I know that none from Yamanouchi told anyone about this and I doubt that either of you did so. As the statue that Dr. Hall had with her matched his expression and posture exactly, it can not be a fabrication. She could have only obtained it by dealing with the Yono."

"So you think that the Yono is active again?" Kim asked. A hand went to her mouth, while her boyfriend rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"We at Yamanouchi cannot be certain," Yori admitted. "But from what the researchers say, an act of patience is not in the Yono's nature." She paused a moment. "I understand your concern, as Master Sensei shares it. The two of you, as well as Rufus, were turned to stone the last time Yono walked the Earth." A sudden, curious look graced her features. "Where is Rufus-san, anyway?"

"He stayed home for this one," Ron answered. "Since we were traveling commercial and going through customs, it would have made things a little complicated."

"Interesting, is it not," Yori commented. "That entering a country by stealth can often be more simple than doing so by legal means?"

"We need to focus," Kim informed the two.

"Of course," Yori offered a small bow of contrition. "We are faced with a mystery. While you have tracked Fiske from Dr. Hall's lair in Colorado to here, we need to know how she obtained him in the first place. Depending upon the bargain she struck with the Yono..."

"It could be loose, right now," Kim finished for her, shuddering.

"So, will you agree to pool resources with me, so that we may better solve this mystery?" The ninja asked.

"Of course," Kim rallied herself and used her Kimmunicator to project an image of the route they intended to use to infiltrate the mansion. The ninja produced a smartphone, with a similar route highlighted. The three compared and combined their plans for the next several minutes, before realizing that they had another option. Kim and Ron returned to the village, then walked boldly down the lane leading to the mansion. Kim found it more difficult than she liked to keep her mind on the mission.

For one thing, Yori made her uneasy. It wasn't that she didn't like the ninja; Yori was a smart and kindly person. If it wasn't for the fact that they lived on opposite sides of the world, the two of them would probably be very close friends. Yet, Kim never forgot that the ninja was, in fact, _a ninja_ ; she had been trained to behave in a manner to gain others' trust. While Kim had dealt with Yori long enough to know that the kindly young woman was the real Yori, she couldn't forget that Yori's loyalty was to a mysterious school, with its own agenda. The redhead had no doubt that the Japanese girl could turn either vicious or manipulative, in a heartbeat, should her service to the school require it.

In a moment of embarrassed honesty, Kim also admitted to herself that she didn't like Yori being around Ron...at least when she wasn't close by. While she had no doubts to her boyfriends loyalty...or her loyalty to him...she could never completely forget that Yori saw him as a guy well before she did. Kim didn't think of herself as the jealous girlfriend type, but she and Yori were a great deal alike and if Ron had fallen for her...

Shaking her head slightly, she put such thoughts out of her mind. Fiske had been bad enough, but the Yono was on a completely different, and worse level. She didn't understand much of how the whole "summon the Yono to do your bidding" thing worked, but anything the Yono did couldn't be good. She caught her breath, remembering the horrible time that she had been turned to stone...

She shook her head again; this wasn't the time to get distracted. She had to act, now, to save others from that fate. There would be time to be frightened later.

The two teens walked with a purposeful stride down the lane, spending a great deal of time in full view of the mansion. Any questions about being spotted were answered when, as they approached the front door, it opened and Bates emerged.

"Miss Possible," he greeted them politely enough. "And Mr. Stoppable. What an unexpected honor! May I ask what brings you to my master's door?"

"We just happened to be out on a stroll," Kim answered. "And since we were in the neighborhood, we thought we'd pop by and call on an old friend."

Bates' only answer was a steady look.

"Now that we have the false pleasantries out of the way, maybe we can be honest with each other." Kim told him. "We tracked your sudden purchase and shipping of a statue when we saw you in the States. We'd like to see if it is what we think it is."

Bates seemed hesitant.

"It's easier this way," Ron told him. "We could have simply came in a back window and looked for ourselves. This way, there's no damage, no misunderstandings, no bonking of heads crawling through basements and no slipping and falling while trying to sneak in through high windows. Everyone wins."

"O-of course," the servant stammered a touch. "P-please, won't you come in?"

He held the door opened and ushered the two inside. Now that he had adjusted to his surprise, he was the efficient host, guiding them through the vestibule and to the main hall. There, Kim and Ron both caught their breath.

"As you can see, I recovered...what was left...of my master," Bates informed them. "I felt it appropriate that he be left here, where he can watch all who come here as guests."

"He can't see..." Kim murmured.

"Miss Possible?" Bates prompted, then noted that she was trembling. "Is there something amiss?"

"You don't hear or see when you're stone," her voice was barely a whisper. "You don't feel or breath. You...don't do anything. Everything is just...nothing."

"KP," Ron whispered to her. Either his voice, his hand on her back, or the two combined seemed to snap her out of whatever spell she was under. She shook her head and her eyes suddenly focused.

"I understand the symbolism," she told Bates, her voice now firm. "But I have something else to ask you. Are you alone here? We read an interesting news article about a pickup full of monkeys and a Sasquatch on Mount Middleton shortly before you shipped the statue over here."

"I'll admit that some of my master's monkeys were here when I assumed my caretakers' duties," the man confessed. "And that I found some more of the lads when I went to Japan trying to find m'lord. There are...certain officials...who appointed me to this position who know all about it."

"We'd like to see the monkeys," Ron suddenly announced.

"And why is this?" Bates demanded. "You realize I have a job to do here!"

"Because if you don't, we might have to use the less polite method, later," Kim told him. "Mister Bates, let's make something clear, your master tried to kill both of us, so we don't like him. You stood by while your master tried to kill Ron, so we really don't like you very much, either. If we become suspicious that you're doing something else...like maybe consorting with the thing that turned him to stone..we just might do something rash and consider it an act of self-preservation."

"Are you threatening an Englishman in his own abode?" Bates snarled at her.

"Yes," Kim answered, holding a steady gaze on the man.

"Very well," he grumbled. He produced a small bell and gave it a quick ring. Moments later, a monkey, wearing a workman's overalls, showed up.

"Bring your fellows to the main hall," he instructed the small primate. "We have guests and it was nearly teatime, anyway."

"Bring _all_ of your fellows," Ron instructed the monkey, as it was about to turn and dash off. "Nobody stays hidden."

To Bates' shock, the monkey bowed to Ron before scampering off.

"The lads follow my instructions, probably out of loyalty to my lord," Bates announced. "Why did this fellow listen to you?"

"Because of what your master forced me to become," Ron grumbled at the man.

There was tension in the air, but it was lessened a bit when two monkeys, wearing attire similar to Bates', showed up and started to set the table. As soon as the table was prepared to receive diners, more monkeys began to troop in.

"We're used to taking our tea in shifts, in the servants' dining room," Bates informed the teens. "But since you've insisted on seeing the lads all at once, we'll do this all at once.

"We appreciate it," Kim assured him. "And we didn't want to be troublesome. I hope you understand that what Fiske uncovered was...horrifying. We needed to make sure that it wouldn't see the light of day again."

"I suppose I should understand," Bates allowed, sipping at his tea. "I mean, the two of you deal with some nasty folk. I suppose that the consequences of failure sometimes means that you have to forfeit manners."

"Unfortunately," Kim sighed. "You are a gracious host, so I hope that we can put this unpleasantness behind us."

"I'm more than willing to let bygones be bygones," Bates agreed.

"So perhaps you could answer a couple more questions," Kim suggested. "And we can avoid further threats and disruptions."

"Certainly."

"You recently purchased several books from China, Vietnam and Cambodia," Kim noted, in a casual voice. "As well as some artifacts. These were either magical or religious, the translation isn't perfect. Why did you purchase these items?"

"These were the sort of objects my dear, old master dealt with," Bates answered. "I honor his memory by enhancing his collection."

"So why didn't he obtain them?" Now, Kim's voice was anything but cordial.

"I suppose he never had the time," Bates sighed. "I know that you didn't agree with his goals, I'll even go so far to say I don't agree with them. However, you have to admit that for the last couple of years, he was completely obsessed with defeating the two of you. He didn't have the time to conduct those activities that he did before meeting you."

"True enough," Kim nodded. "But why would you think these particular artifacts will enhance his collection? They don't really fit in with the collections he had already established."

"I'll admit to hardly being an expert," Bates shrugged. "They became available, so I took steps to obtain them."

"Strange," Kim carefully dabbed a drop of tea from her lip with a napkin. "According to my findings, the various museums and governments that owned these artifacts hadn't advertised them for sale. In fact, it would have taken someone with connections within the artifact trade, as well as significant research, to track them down."

"I understand your technical support man is a genius in several fields," Bates countered. "But don't you think that ancient artifacts are a bit beyond his purview?"

"Possibly," Kim offered a slight wave. "Mr. Bates, have you associated with any of Fiske's old associates?"

"Of course," Bates shrugged. "I have purchased and sold several artifacts, as well you know. In addition, managing his estate requires me to regularly deal with his tenants."

"Let me rephrase my question," Kim responded. "Have you had any contact with his associates of a more...morally ambiguous...sort?"

"Indeed," Bates nodded. "I had to deal with several smugglers to get those of these lads who were in Japan, back here. I also dealt with the Scottish chap, Killigan, and the blue fellow, Drakken, when I was searching for Fiske."

"Any others?" Kim insisted. "We suspected that Amy held Fiske up on Middleton."

"We took m'lord from her by force," Fiske answered. "The last I saw, she was bound in her own lair as we fled."

"Then your eyes are very poor, indeed!" Another voice announced. Yori, with a wrist lock on DNAmy, burst through another doorway. "I found this doctor in the laboratories below, where she was studying both mysticism and science. It appears she was seeking a method to convert stone to flesh!"

"James, you've done a very bad thing," Kim told her host, rising to her feet.

"I didn't want it to come to this," Bates waved the monkeys to their feet. "I only wanted to do my duty."

"It won't come to this!" Ron suddenly shouted. "Monkeys, don't fight!"

Some monkeys got to their feet; some stayed seated. All looked like they didn't really know what to do.

"These monkeys can't take the three of us," Kim told Bates. "It isn't too late! Just give up!"

"I don't have a choice!" Bates snarled back. "Fiske is my master!"

"Earl Snidely has even more authority!" Kim snapped at him, holding up her Kimmunicator. "And I've been transmitting this conversation to him the entire time."

For a moment, silence reigned in the Fiske Mansion; then Earl Snidely's voice sounded over the speaker.

"I hope everyone present realizes that violence will accomplish nothing at this point," the remote nobleman announced. "Mr. Bates, your loyalty to your master is admirable, but your deception towards me is unforgivable. It is clear to me that you are up to something, I need to know just what, but I cannot trust you to tell me."

"I think it's obvious," Kim spoke up. "This bunch is trying to bring Fiske back!"

"I'll admit it!" Bates snapped. "What's the harm?"

"The harm is in the unintended consequences," Yori announced, her voice calm despite the fact that she was maintaining her hold on Amy. "What destruction will the Yono be able to inflict upon the world, if you succeed?"

"I don't understand," Ron admitted. "What does the Yono have to do with Fiske? Wasn't the deal done when Hana defeated Monty?"

"That contract was fulfilled," Yori confirmed. "But a new one was made. Only one here knows the details of that bargain." With a quick move, the ninja yanked both of the geneticist's hands into view. "She does not bear the Yono's mark, so she did not strike the usual agreement with the demon. It is vital that we learn what deal she made!"

"I have ears!" Amy protested. "I can hear you talk!"

"Then prove you have a tongue!" Yori snarled at her. "Tell us of your meeting with the Yono!"

"Er..perhaps the doctor will be more inclined to speak if she's properly seated," Bates suggested. "And with a cup of tea in front of her."

"You have already irritated me a great deal," Snidely informed the host. "But proceed."

Surprisingly, Amy rallied quickly once shown some proper courtesy.

"I had been watching poor Monty for years," Amy explained. "So I had a couple of really cute mole/bat hybrids watching what he was up to. When he left for Japan and didn't come back, I came here to find out where he went. I was able to follow his research and realized that this nasty Yono creature had led him astray, so I went to Japan to have a word with the nasty monkey."

"What deal did you strike with the demon?" Yori demanded.

"I was getting to that! He asked me what I wanted destroyed and I told him that I didn't want anything like that, I just wanted my Monty back. Then he told me that those who called on the Yono paid with their souls for his services and I told him that I wasn't about to pay such a price and that I wasn't an angry person, so I didn't want anything broken. He was angry at first, then he told me that I interested him and asked what I would provide if I didn't give him my soul. I...couldn't come up with anything that he'd want, so he asked me what I did. When I told him that I created new creatures, he made a suggestion."

Four sets of human eyes, and several sets of monkey eyes, remained locked on the geneticist. Far away, Earl Snidely listened intently.

"He described a creation that was easy enough for me to make," Amy finally continued. "It was a primate, but large. It combined the upright posture of a human with the bulk and strength of a gorilla. It was similar to the lovely creations I made to help me up on Mount Middleton, but the Yono was willing so sacrifice a little brute strength for more agility and speed."

"So, you created such a beast for the Yono?" Yori demanded.

"It wasn't a beast!" Amy shrieked at her. "It was a lovely, beautiful creature! The Yono offered to give me Monty's stone form in exchange for this creation...but he made some more requests for it."

"What sort of requests?" Kim asked, fairly certain that she wouldn't want to hear the answer.

"Odd requests," Amy answered. "You see, when I make my creations for others, my customers usually want creations that already have certain skills, like fighting, tracking or carrying heavy loads. The Yono didn't want any of that, he just wanted the sasquatch."

"So how did you effect this exchange?" Yori asked her.

"Why, I returned to one of my laboratories and created the sasquatch he wanted," Amy told her. "After that, I sealed the little darling in a suspended animation chamber and smuggled it to Bangkok. There, I made the exchange with some rough looking men."

"Where did they take this sasquatch?" Yori pressed.

"You've never done smuggling, have you dear?" Amy looked more condescending than angry. "You don't ask these questions of each other."

"But you're always careful with what you create," Kim pointed out. "Were you willing to risk that they were going to be cruel to the creature?"

"The Yono had worked too hard to get my little darling!" Amy protested. "When someone works that hard to get one, he isn't going to be mean to it!"

"But you would want to be sure," Kim insisted.

"Fine!" Amy threw her hands up. "I had some more of my cuddly little dears with me and the rough men didn't know they were there. They told me that the men discussed moving the sasquatch north, across Laos and eventually into China."

"I believe that I will need much more to report to my sensei," Yori noted. "And I believe that Earl Snidely will also wish to know a great deal more. However, it is clear to me that the Yono has manipulated Dr. Hall, and this may have dire consequences for all of us. Somehow, he is benefiting from having Fiske's remains returned to the Earth. Might I suggest that moving Fiske to Yamanouchi is a wise precaution?"

"The name Yamanouchi is known to me," Snidely's voice sounded from the Kimmunicator's speaker. "And from what I know, Yamanouchi and Fiske have an antagonistic relationship. Mister Bates, while you have proven to be a capable caretaker for the Fiske Estate, it is clear that you cannot be trusted with your master's remains. I have been forced to deal with the supernatural, in the execution of my duties, and I know that returning one from the dead is seldom a good idea. It is clear that Dr. Hall and Mister Bates were planning on recovering the man and the fact that they did not see fit to explain this to me makes me question the wisdom of allowing them continued access to Fiske. Miss Yori, if you will be so kind as to provide me with a means to communicate with someone of authority in Yamanouchi, I'm willing to negotiate transferring Fiske to the school."

"But My Lord!" Bates protested. "You yourself said that Fiske was best kept here, in his ancestral home!"

"That was before I knew the depths of your deception," the absent nobleman answered. "I'm forced to reconsider. Perhaps a monastery dedicated to martial training, and unfriendly to him will be a more safe holding location."

"With your permission, Earl Snidely, I shall contact my Sensei on your behalf," Yori offered.

"Delightful young lady," Snidely commented. "Miss Possible and Mr. Stoppable, I would be most grateful if you make sure that Bates and Hall do not disturb Miss Yori while she contacts her superior. I would also appreciate you making sure that they do not move Fiske. I am making arrangements now to take him into protective custody pending this hypothetical agreement between the Crown and Yamanouchi."

Both DNAmy and Bates looked like they had been punched in the stomach.

"I would ask that no violence take place on the estate, and I am willing to bargain for it," the nobleman continued. "Dr. Hall, you are still wanted for several, petty crimes; but none were committed on British soil. If you do not resist, I will see to it that you have forty-eight hours head start before I notify any international authorities."

"But..." Amy began to protest.

"Miss Possible, I understand that you are strongly affiliated with Global Justice," the nobleman continued. "If you will agree to this delay in reporting the bad doctor's whereabouts, I will consider it an act of cooperation, which will leave the Crown in the agency's debt."

"Agreed," Kim stated.

"Dr. Hall, the choice is yours, but the forty eight hours starts now," Snidely informed the geneticist.

Looking like she was about to cry, Amy rushed from the room.

"As for you, Mr. Bates," Snidely continued. "Lack of resistance will mean a lack of damage to the estate."

"Aye," Bates sighed. "I should have known I'd not get away with it."

"You should have informed me," Snidely told him. "Fortunately, no harm seems to have been done. Now, if you will excuse me, I have negotiations to perform."

* * *

Kim decided that it might be a good idea to work with grateful governments more often. Earl Snidely clearly had some authority within Her Majesty's government. Within hours of him declaring his intentions for Fiske, a full battalion of soldiers showed up at the estate, ostensibly on a training mission, in case a rebellion called for the securing of priceless artifacts. Soon, Fiske had been crated up and hauled off to a location that Earl Snidely assured them they would be better off not knowing, accompanied by Yori. It wasn't the only expression of the Earl's authority.

Shortly after the soldiers carted off Fiske, a fine car showed up to pick up her and Ron, then whisked them off to London's Heathrow Airport, where first class tickets, and a letter from Earl Snidely, awaited them.

"As a representative of the Crown, let me say that it is our pleasure and privilege to provide you with fine accommodations on your return journey," Ron had read, doing his best to mimic the man's voice and accent. "While I understand that the two of you will certainly tell your technical support man and Global Justice what transpired at the Fiske Estate, I hope that you will see the benefit to Her Majesty's Government if you were to limit your discussions to this individual and organization. I do not like to make threats, but I feel compelled to point out that as a great power, the goodwill of the British Government will be of benefit to your activities, while our irritation could prove most detrimental. Now that the unpleasant business of threats are out of the way, let me express my hope that we may continue a relationship of mutual respect and assistance. Best wishes to both of you."

"Well, that was more or less what we expected," Kim told her boyfriend.

"True," Ron agreed. "But what did you think of my accent?"

"Well...do you remember that show, where the British actor tried to mimic a western drawl?" She asked, deciding to compromise between honesty and kindness.

"Yeah..."

"You probably sounded something like that."

"Ah, man..." Ron grumbled, as Kim smirked, caught his hand and led him to the ticket counter. To their pleasant surprise, they found first-class tickets waiting them for a flight to Denver, plus a connecting flight to Middleton. They had just a few minutes to purchase a couple of magazines and snacks before the flight started to board.

"Maybe there's a good thing about being so tired," Ron grumbled, as they settled into their seats. "It's a ten hour flight, so spending the first eight asleep will make it seem shorter."

Kim could only agree. They hadn't had any sleep for close to twenty hours now, and even fit, young people were feeling the strain. The first class seats were large and roomy, and could form the sleeping compartments once they were at cruising altitude. This was a little disappointing; if they were flying coach, they could raise the arm between their seats and snuggle on the way back. They had worked things out well before; the trip to the mission was all business but they were free to indulge in as much couple time as possible on the return.

She chided herself, it was hardly charitable to criticize being moved to first class.

She realized that she had a problem when she tried to get to sleep; the sleeping mask and noise canceling headphones did their job just a little too well. She found herself sitting up suddenly, sweating profusely and with her heart hammering in her chest. She tore off the mask and the headphones, gasping for breath. She looked at her Kimmunicator; she had only been asleep for a few minutes.

"Is it what I think it is?" Ron asked her. For all that he was a deep sleeper, the young man was wired into her well enough that he automatically reacted to her sudden moves.

"The...same thing as Japan?" He asked her. She could only nod, trying to relax her heart and breathing to a normal level.

He could only sigh, then rolled onto his side on the seat. Immediately, she joined him. Feeling him spoon up behind her and hold her hand. There had been problems the last time they were on a mission involving Yori and Fiske, problems that she thought she had put behind them. It was sobering to know that they could resurface so easily. She could only hope that the cuddling would be enough for her this time.

* * *

Yamanouchi was a school influenced by tradition, but not ruled by it. While tradition held that anyone reach it by climbing the mountain, it wasn't a solid rule. While most of the supplies were brought in on the backs of the students, as much to toughen the students as to keep secrecy, Sensei didn't hesitate to allow certain, heavy items to be brought in by more modern means. Thus, when a certain statue needed to be delivered to the school, quickly and discretely, the old man had no trouble petitioning the Japanese Self-Defense Forces for a utility helicopter to perform the deed. The old man observed the delivery himself, first watching the crate lowered gently to a courtyard and then the masked figure leaping from the cargo bay to land noiselessly on the ground. He waved the helicopter away. Once it was out of sight, the figure removed her mask and more people emerged from the surrounding buildings to converge upon the crate.

"Yori-chan," Master Sensei returned the young woman's bow. "I send you to England to discover what you could of the goings on at the Fiske Estate, yet you return with Fiske himself and a mutually beneficial interaction with the British Government. I am most pleased at how you have exceeded expectations."

"My thanks, Master Sensei," Yori bowed once again. "I had assistance."

"As you reported," Sensei replied, approving of her honest modesty. "Yet a mystery has been uncovered. While your report indicated how Dr. Hall obtained Fiske, I would prefer to hear it from you, with the opinions that you did not include in an official dispatch."

"Of course, Master Sensei," the young ninja described the interrogation session, including the expressions and gestures displayed, while several other students disassembled the crate.

"I have also brought the notes and results of Dr. Hall's research to turn Fiske back to flesh," Yori concluded, gesturing to a couple of boxes that had been sealed in the crate with the statue. "Dr. Hall was utilizing both science and mysticism."

"Very well," Sensei nodded. He now studied the stone form he had last seen sinking below the ground near this very spot. "I believe that the main training hall be an appropriate place to leave this fool. It is almost continually occupied, so the risk of theft will be minimized. It will also serve as a lesson about making foolish bargains with powers you do not understand, to all students. In the meantime, we must seek to learn what the Yono intends to gain by allowing him to be unearthed."

"I am ready to go wherever is required," Yori assured the old man.

"As I know you are, child," Sensei smiled at her. "However, for the moment, the search will be conducted by old men and women, who will study dusty tomes and gather intelligence from our many informants. Let those of us who have become too old for action to narrow down the search, so that the younger and more energetic may expend their efforts in a productive manner."

Sense's hidden smile grew even wider when he noted his student's subtle relaxation, indicating that she was pleased to have at least a short time to recover from the long journey.

"Tell me, child," he stated in a conversational tone as he led her from the courtyard. "What about young Stoppable and his sweetheart? Were they still an effective team?"

"I could not tell," Yori admitted. "While they played their distraction role perfectly, the nature of the mission did not require conflict."

"Those are the best missions," Sensei nodded his approval. "Do they continue to show affection towards each other?"

"I did not observe such," she confessed. "They were supportive of each other, yet I did not notice...romantic affection...being displayed."

"Interesting..." the old man mused.

"Is this important?" Yori asked.

"That is the riddle of information," Sensei chuckled. "One often does not know it is vital until it is needed. Thus, it is always better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it."

* * *

 _A/N: My thanks to Joe Stoppinghem, for beta reading._


	2. Chapter 2

Fiske did not like his lot in the afterlife.

He had never really thought about the idea of hell while he had been on Earth. His parents had saw to his religious education, like noble families throughout the country did. Fiske had vague concepts of fiery pits of agony, he also had concepts of frigid wastelands where demons would scour him with whips. He had never imagined being submerged in reeking swamp water, digging a drainage ditch.

Time was truly irrelevant. At first, he had held his breath while digging, then returned to the surface. The man he had originally met gave him a sharp crack on the head, informed him that as he was dead, he had no need to breathe, and sent him back under. Fiske exhaled what air remained in his lungs, found he was less inconvenienced when less buoyant and continued to work.

Some aspects of his life remained. Eventually, his body became waterlogged to the point that his hands were so swollen that he couldn't effectively utilize his tools. When that happened, the original man who had met him prodded him with a stick, directed him to leave the ditch, and led him further up the work site, to where other workers hacked at the foliage.

"Clear the plants," the man instructed.

"What is your name," Fiske demanded of him.

For a moment, the man looked confused. "Names mean nothing," he finally answered. "If you need to speak to me, call me leader, or just talk."

Leader was neither kindly nor harsh. He was not an imaginative leader, but he was efficient. He had the crew broken down into four groups; the first cleared the foliage from the ditch's path, the second dug halfway to the water level, the third lowered the ditch to the water's level, and the fourth group lowered the ditch below water level. He also rotated the workers through the various groups and worked as hard as any of them. The work was slow but as Fiske was coming to realize, "what was time to souls in hell"?

He had been warned that days meant nothing and he quickly learned this to be true. There were no days and nights. There was always an illumination in the sky, a light that seemed of a more reddish hue than on Earth. Sometimes it was darker and sometimes it was lighter, yet it was always there. It rained at times, even though there were no clouds in the sky. Bereft of life, Fiske neither tired nor grew hungry or thirsty. Much of the demands that his body had placed upon him in life were gone; and he found that he missed them. He longed to feel fatigue, so that he could sleep it away. He longed to hunger, so that he could feel the simple enjoyment of eating, yet these most basic of pleasures were lost to him. There was only labor...and curiosity.

The forty or so souls he found himself working alongside were a taciturn group, but there was information to glean just by observing them. They were dressed in an assortment of regional attire; most wore clothing typical of the south of Asia, yet there was some African and even South and Central American garb to be seen. The clothing seemed to span centuries, both in style and method of creation, although most appeared to be ancient. Most were men but there were a few that may have been women in life; it was hard to tell, as when Yono removed unnecessary organs, he also removed breasts. Were these particular souls women in life, or smaller, slender men?

When he tried to stir up conversations, he was met with mostly sullen silence. All clearly understood his English, but most simply chose to not reply. He noted that those who would occasionally respond with a word or two were those with the fewest tattoos upon their arms. Fiske had never been a gregarious man in life. In fact, for the last few years of his mortal existence, most of the words he had uttered had either been orders to servants or sarcastic witticisms to enemies and rivals. Now, ironically, he relished knowledge more than he had in life, providing lore would be a small price for hearing new lore, yet those around him, some who had walked the Earth centuries before he had, couldn't be bothered to speak. Then, he wondered what use learning would be in a place like this. Still, curiosity was all he had, so he intended to indulge.

The drainage ditch crept on, and Leader shifted his workers to keep anyone from becoming too bloated from working in the water. Fiske found himself spending more and more time clearing foliage, as his prehensile feet allowed him to work more effectively in the trees. Of course, this work was only marginally preferable to working underwater; while he wasn't constantly marinating in a cesspool, the wild monkeys had easier access to pummel him with debris and filth when he was in the trees with them. Remembering Leader's warning, he held his peace, but it was getting difficult. Rather than hating the monkeys, he focused his rage on those who had put him here; The Yono, Stoppable, the cheerleader, Master Sensei and the infant.

"Why must they torment us so!" He demanded during one shift. To his surprise, he received an answer.

"They're what we're trying to be," another soul, who looked like he had come from a Central African area, perhaps four centuries before Fiske's time, answered him.

"I beg your pardon?" Having so often not received a reply, Fiske was desperate to pump the...man...for more information.

"That's the way of it," the soul showed his arm, which had perhaps two dozen spots tattooed upon the flesh. "You keep collecting tattoos, you gain authority over other souls. Get enough, you're turned into a monkey, protected by the Yono and allowed to harass the souls."

Fiske thought about this for a very short time, then began to laugh, bitterly, at himself.

"An odd time for mirth," his companion noted.

"I spent my lifetime emulating monkeys," Fiske snorted. "Now, in the afterlife, it seems that my goal is to become one."

The other soul showed just the slightest touch of appreciating the irony, but the two went back to work. The ditch continued its inexorable growth towards the low ground and Fiske was rotated in and out of the water crew a few more times when he found that he was working in the foliage with the "talkative" soul once again. Since an outburst had prompted an answer the last time, Fiske decided to try again.

"Why is there no metal?" He growled, hacking at a branch with a stone ax.

"What's the point?" The soul, who Fiske had decided to refer to as African, asked.

"So we could get this blasted job done!" Fiske snarled back. "We could work much faster with steel or even bronze tools."

"We work here, or we work somewhere else," African shrugged. "We work fast or we work slow. It doesn't matter, we work."

"Did you have metal, when you were on the other side?" Fiske decided to take a chance and ask a direct question.

For a moment or two, African just looked at him. He didn't appear afraid to speak; he exhibited the manor of a mildly thirsty man who was debating if it was worth the effort to get a glass of water.

"There was copper and bronze," he finally answered. "I have heard others talk of iron, steel and other metals."

Fiske was surprised, not so much from the answer as from the implication that there was such a thing as gossip in the Yono's hell.

"We all wish to talk when we arrive here," African had noted Fiske's expression. "But we all learn better. Complaining about our fate doesn't make it better, comparing our lives doesn't bring them back."

"How about learning?" Fiske asked. "You told me we may become monkeys if we labor long enough, but what becomes of them? Why is there stone to be found in the ground, but no metal?"

"What point is there to learn?" African asked him. "What happens to the monkeys will happen to us all, knowing about it doesn't change anything. If you learn why there is no metal in the stones we unearth, what will you do with this knowledge?"

African went back to his labor and Fiske did the same. Yet, he was was now determined to unravel the mysteries of the Yono's hell. African had inadvertently let something slip; that new souls spoke, at least a little. The work crawled on, eventually the ditch was completed. During this time, Fiske managed a couple more short conversations, from which he learned a little more of the Yono's past dealings on Earth. Almost immediately after the lake began to drain, the Yono showed up, lined all the workers up and touched a claw to each one's arm. Where he touched them, a tattooed spot appeared. After that, he directed them to different directions and Fiske found himself in another group, numbering in the hundreds, with instructions to build a temple complex the size of the Taj Mahal.

Having learned some customs, Fiske exposed his tattooed arm, and his one spot, at the same time as the other workers. He was quickly placed at the lower end of the organization, which actually fit his agenda perfectly. Two other workers had less than a half-dozen spots and another had none. Fiske kept as close to these three as he could while the forest was cleared, the site leveled, stone was quarried and hauled to the site and the temple built. All the time, monkeys hurled abuse upon him and he let this abuse nurse his hate...and his determination. The three newer souls proved to be relatively talkative, and Fiske learned from the conversations. He observed his surroundings and learned still more and from both conversation and observation, he deduced.

After the temple came the wall, although Fiske couldn't guess what it was defending against. After the wall, it was the dam. After the dam came the city, where he learned what the wall had defended against. After the city came the mountain, which was razed and then rebuilt, stone-by-stone, one hundred kilometers away from where it had originally been. During all his labors, he was abused and scorned. During all his labors, he both nursed and fed upon his hatred...and during all his labors, he found those who would speak, he observed, he deduced and he _learned_.

It was an excruciatingly slow process, but what was time to a soul in hell?

* * *

Sometimes, life can disguise the biggest breaks it gives to you as minor luck. Case in point, Kim's housing situation at Upperton University. Despite receiving acceptance letters for universities all over the world, she had chosen to attend a solid school, just far enough away from home to exert some independence while staying close enough to take advantage of the support network she had built over the years. The new dorm she was assigned to was one in which the resident suites were assigned to four girls, two each to two small bedrooms, with a common bathroom and study room. What made this sitch even better was that her roommate was Tara King.

This sitch was almost ideal; Tara was studying pre-med, while Kim was studying pre-law. As a result, the two had similar, intense study regimens, so there were no arguments about loud music, late nights, or other issues when studying needed to be done. They were also on the cheer squad together, so were used to each other's workout routines and the attitudes of so many who thought it odd that young women who were seeking to enter the medical and legal fields would want to be cheerleaders. While Kim was ready to defend her choices, it was a relief to not be roomed with someone who bought into the stereotypes.

However, being roomed with a friend had its share of advantages, disguised as disadvantages. While Kim had been on good terms with Tara through high school, the two of them had never been all that close. Maybe it had been the fact that Tara and been so close with Bonnie. With the brunette attending a private school in New England and Monique attending a college on the Eastern Seaboard, Kim found her and Tara opening up to each other a great deal. At least enough that Tara had noted some changes in the redhead's behavior, after the England mission, that hadn't corrected themselves. Now separated from the old high school food chain for over a year, she was no longer shy about bringing it up.

"So, are you going to tell me what the problem is?" The blonde asked one night, as the two were preparing for bed.

"What problem?" Kim asked her.

"Let's see," Tara rested her chin between her thumb and forefinger, affecting a pose of dramatic contemplation. "You went on a sudden, overseas mission two weeks ago. Ever since you came back, you've had a nightlight on and you programmed your Kimmunicator to make the tick-tock sound of a wind-up alarm clock, all night. You wake up a couple of times during the night and thrash around. I'd suspect that you could just talk to Ron about it, but either talking to him isn't doing any good, or you don't want to. Either way, it's serious."

"Ron...is part of the problem," Kim admitted.

"Has he done something?" The blonde girl looked ready to storm the men's dorms, alone, and drag the running back into the quad for judgment and execution.

"No," Kim couldn't help but smile at her fierce friend. "He was kind of caught up in it, as well."

Tara raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, this doesn't go out of this room," Kim said, sitting on her bed.

"Agreed," Tara replied, settling onto her own bed, prepared to hear a story.

"I'm going to keep this vague," Kim told her. "We run into a lot of secrets that we have to keep."

Tara only nodded.

"When we go on our missions, sometimes we deal with the supernatural," Kim began. "Things that defy science. Back during our Senior Year, Ron and I went to another country and faced off against what I can only call a demon. During the fight, I got turned to stone."

Tara brought her hand to her mouth.

"It was terrible," Kim shuddered at the memory. "I couldn't see anything, couldn't hear, couldn't feel. There was just, nothing."

"It was dark?" Tara asked.

"No." Kim shook her head. "It wasn't dark or light; it was nothing. It wasn't silence; it was nothing. The worst was that I had no way of knowing how long it was going to last, or how long it had lasted. I wasn't afraid, because I couldn't feel any emotion. There was just a vast, empty nothing. What's worse, when you don't breathe, when you can't think, when you can't feel or see or hear, time doesn't mean anything. I could have been there for a second, or a century, it wouldn't have made any difference." She took a deep breath. "Then, I was back. I realized that not much time had passed and Ron was there and I ran to him. Then I saw the man who was responsible for it all. He was a stone statue and was sinking into the ground."

"What happened next?" Tara asked, when Kim showed no sign of continuing.

"I was fine, at least at first," Kim answered. "There was some work to do before we caught our flight back home. I tried to get some sleep on the flight, but I kept waking up, shivering, even when I was cuddled up to Ron. After that, back in Middleton, the days were fine because there were always things to see...colors and textures and depth. There were always sounds to be heard. There was always the feel of the wind, or my clothes, on my skin. But at night..." She shuddered again. "It was dark, so there wasn't as much to see. My brothers were always up to something noisy, so dad had all of the bedrooms sound-proofed, so there weren't many sounds. A rocket-scientist can do a good job when it comes to climate controls, so my room was always the perfect temperature; not too hot, not too cold..."

"So you got a nightlight and brought in some sounds," Tara concluded.

"But it wasn't enough," Kim told her. "I needed to feel still more. I got a needle and I would prick my fingertips if I had a panic attack. The pain...reminded me that I was alive."

Tara gasped and put a hand over her mouth.

"Mom found a tissue with blood spots in my garbage one day and asked me about it. I told her that I had popped a major zit. She bought it, but I realized that I had to do something else. I didn't have panic attacks every night, but when I did, I started to slip out of my window and just walk around the neighborhood, being careful not to be spotted. I did this a couple of times before I wound up in Ron's back yard, so I climbed up the tree outside his window and knocked on it. He was shocked, but he was up to letting me cuddle with him for a few hours, before I had to slip back home so my parents wouldn't know I had left the house."

"I bet he was up to it," Tara smirked at her. "Isn't that a teenage boys dream, having his hot girlfriend slip into his room?"

Kim smiled back. Another reason that she got along with the blonde so well was that they were both very pretty young women with the same attitude; while they didn't put themselves constantly on display, like Bonnie had, they didn't shy away from their own attractiveness. They were pretty, they liked being pretty, but they didn't see the need to turn it into a competition. Unfortunately, she was going to have to squash Tara's belief in the romantic ending of her cuddling away her emotional issues.

"This went on for a couple of weeks," Kim continued. "Not every night, but often enough for Ron to realize that I was having some sort of issue. He asked about it and I told him that I was dealing with it and he was helping me by letting me sleep a few hours with him when I needed to. But that...wasn't enough."

"I think I see where this is going," Tara murmured. She didn't look shocked; rather her lascivious smile seemed out of place on her usually sweet and innocent face.

"We had a date on a Friday," Kim reported, but was unable to meet Tara's eyes. "And I didn't have a panic episode that night. Ron's parents were out of town that weekend, so he had Hana duty. I met with them on Saturday, when he took her to the park to play. Of course, everyone was fine with me keeping him company at his house. He read her books and played with her to her Flippies videos, gave her a bath and she was out like a light."

Kim glanced up to note that Tara was totally entranced in the story.

"I won't go into the full details," Kim continued, which caused a slightly disappointed expression to cross the blonde's face. "I'll just say that I so much wanted to experience...everything...since I knew what experiencing nothing was like, that I..."

"You seduced your boyfriend," Tara finished, when Kim paused. "The young man who you had been friends with for almost your entire life, had gone through things that very few people will experience in their lifetimes together, and who you had been dating for over a year...you seduced him." She shook her head in mock disgust. "You realize that this isn't exactly shameful?"

"I know," Kim told her. "But it was for the wrong reason. Sure, I wanted him and he wanted me, but I wanted the experience more than I wanted it with him." She took another deep breath and continued. "We were fine for a few more weeks; teenage hormones and all. We were the perfect teen couple in public and whenever we could find a few hours to ourselves...well, you get the picture."

Tara nodded, but she looked a little troubled at the direction this was going.

"Ron's not exactly quick-witted," Kim admitted. "But he isn't dull-witted."

Tara nodded again; her courses in pre-med and Ron's aspirations to become a physical therapist meant that they shared a couple of classes. While he didn't learn quickly, he did learn completely.

"He figured out that I wanted the experience with him, more than I wanted him," Kim sighed. "And graduation was coming up. I still hadn't decided which university to attend, and I was looking hard at institutions in Europe. He was pretty sure that once the Summer was over, we would be over. I realized that if something didn't happen, he would be right, and I didn't want it to be over between us."

Now, Tara looked relieved...just a little.

"We work with some...international organizations," Kim continued. "And fortunately, one of them was experienced enough with the bizarre to not think I was insane when I told Dr. Dir...er...the leader, that I had been turned to stone. She...er...they set me up with a counselor and I realized that I was suffering from PTSD. She helped me deal with this and helped me work out how others could help me deal with it. Then came graduation. We helped Drakken beat the invasion and we both realized that we wanted to stay together. We were both accepted here and things were going great."

"Until a couple of weeks ago," Tara prompted.

"Yeah," Kim sighed again. "I don't know how a lot of the supernatural world works, but I'm pretty sure that the demon that turned me to stone can only do things on Earth if someone invites him. While the guy who invited him the last time is gone, it looks like someone is dealing with that demon again."

Kim struggled with her emotions, tried to keep them in check. She didn't want to shriek what she was about to say, but she wanted to get it out.

"I don't want to ever see that thing again!" She hissed. "I don't want to hear about it, but if there's any way of keeping it in hell..."

"You'll step up and do it," Tara finished, her voice gentle and supportive. "In the meantime, you have to take care of yourself. Have you talked to the counselor again?"

"Yes," Kim nodded, sniffing back a tear. "And Ron, pretty much every day. The first time it happened, it affected us because we weren't ready for it. I'm hoping we don't have another rough patch. College life is difficult enough."

"What's rougher?" Tara asked, a sympathizing smile showing on her face. "The girls that are trying to hit on the new running back, the guys that are hitting on the redhead cheerleader, the guys who are hitting on the pretty girl in pre-law, or all the people who can't believe that a smart girl would want to be a cheerleader?"

"The last," Kim sighed. "I don't think that a week goes by without someone asking me about it." She shook her head. "If I had joined a gym to keep in shape, nobody would think twice. If I had joined Toastmasters or some other public speaking group to improve my presentation abilities, nobody would have batted an eye. Why is there such a bias against cheerleaders?"

Tara only gave her an amused look.

"Okay, I'm preaching to the choir," Kim admitted. "Do you go through the same thing?"

"Don't you know it," the blonde sighed. "Why is there such an assumption that intelligence and cheerleading are mutually exclusive?"

The two commiserated about this, about the fact that so many people seemed to think that Kim was dating down by staying with Ron, and about life in general. Finally exhausted, the two turned in for the night.

It wasn't until she was dressed and heading to her first class the next morning that Kim realized that her friend had cleverly manipulated her into talking herself out so that she would get a good night's sleep.

* * *

"Time could be passing as it does for a mountain," Sensei told the old men around him, his voice solemn. "Where years are meaningless and only centuries seem to be noticeable. Time could be passing as it does for the mayfly; with only hours between birth and death. We have no way to know how time is passing for us, so prudence dictates that we accomplish our goal as quickly as possible."

He statement was met with a series of polite nods.

"Now that I have distributed common sense, disguised as mystic wisdom, we can devote ourselves to our task with greater efficiency," he now declared. "It has been two weeks since Yori brought Fiske to us, as well as Dr. Hall's research. What have we found?"

Around the table, there were some glances until a man, younger than most of the very old men around him, rose to his feet.

"Upon hearing the student's report, I sought out those informants that I have in Thailand, Laos and China," he declared. "I believe I know where and when Dr. Hall's creature was taken into China, but I cannot be sure. I am trying to backtrack it's route from Bangkok, as well as it's journey within China."

Sensei offered a slight nod; smuggling wasn't an exact enterprise, so tracking smuggled goods was even more sketchy. Young Master Tsukiakari would work his network of agents and simple informants as best he could. Chances were, he would eventually get enough of a lead to send in an action team to investigate.

But would the enemy's purpose be fulfilled before such a lead was developed?

"If I could add to this," and older voice interrupted Sensei's thoughts. The old man looked up to see a mystical researcher, Master Rekishi.

"Of course," Sensei nodded to him.

"The ancient texts are hard to decipher," the old man informed them. "But there seemed to be an adversarial relationship between the ancient Yono, and the first Emperor of China. Supposedly, the Emperor somehow weakened the Yono near what is now his tomb, in the Shaanxi Province. Creatures such as the Yono do not take such defeats lightly. It is possible that whatever the Yono has in mind for the creation may require the residual energies of that conflict."

Sensei merely glanced back over towards Master Tsukiakari.

"I shall contact such assets that are in the Shaanxi Province," the younger man assured the group.

"Master Rekishi, what else can you tell us about this rivalry between the emperor and the Yono?" Sensei asked.

"Regrettably little," the old man replied. "And still less that may be of use. It would appear that prior to the establishment of the Qin Dynasty, the Yono had a great deal more influence in the world. I have not been able to decipher the exact details, but it would appear that prior to the Qin Dynasty, the Yono could warp souls at a greater rate than afterwards."

"Is it possible that the Yono seeks to return to this greater influence?" Sensei asked. "That the possession of this body, perhaps allowing Fiske's form to return to the Earth, are steps to this goal?"

"I cannot discount anything," Rekishi answered. "And because of this, I cannot suggest any course of action, other than to gain more knowledge, both by study and by observation. I believe we will all agree that it is in our self-interest to seize this body. It would be better for all if all aspects of the Yono are under Yamanouchi control."

"What if this body, brought close to Fiske, is what the Yono wishes us to do?" Sensei asked.

"Again, I cannot discount that it may be the Yono's plan," Rekishi shrugged. "But I can suggest gaining control of it, so that our options remain open. I urge all to remember that we only suspect that the body will be taken to Shaanxi."

"We may be in luck, closer to home," yet another old man, Master Shikaku announced. Upon Sensei's nod, he continued. "We have long suspected a branch of the Yakuza to facilitate foolish people's contact with the Yono. This splinter group has recently come under the control of a younger man; a brash, egotistical idiot who likes to show off his wealth and influence. He likes expensive liquor, fine suits, fine cars and attractive women. Such a man may know what the Yono's other operatives are doing, if not the reason they are doing it."

"And such men always want to show off a new suit, watch, car or girl," Sensei finished. "Which gives us the opportunity to influence him. Perhaps we shall provide one or more such things to him. Now, we have business other than the Yono to attend to. Shall we discuss the latest disappearance..."

While Master Sensei discussed strategy, one of his favorite pupils indulged in the welcome routine of a mundane task. The young woman continued to apply a broom to the training hall, reflecting on the irony that even in a school dedicated to training ninja, who must be ready to fight at any moment and thus would train at all hours of the day, the best place to find solitude was in the training hall, when it wasn't being utilized.

"I doubt you can hear me," she told the statue that had recently been placed there. "So this conversation is completely foolish. I have just returned from my latest assignment, in which I played the part of a visiting executive. I was able to glean the records of a less than honorable corporation and determine that it was laundering money from a most disgusting cult. Yamanouchi will send a strike team to deal with the cult itself, while government authorities will seek to find those in power who benefited from such activities."

"I am good at what I do, Fiske," the name came from her mouth as a hiss, and she rested her broom against a wall for a few moments. "I have dedicated my life to the service of Yamanouchi, much as you dedicated your life to personal gain. I am a capable fighter, yet that is not what makes me valuable to Yamanouchi. I can speak four languages and I can mimic the mannerisms of many around me. I can play the part of a businesswoman, an innocent student, or a piece of arm candy. I have completed many missions; some of which I found to be distasteful, some of which I found to be humiliating, most of which I found to only be duties. Because of my sacrifices, the world is a safer place."

"Do you understand that, Fiske?" She snarled at the stone form. "Do you understand giving of yourself to a higher cause, to honor? When you walked this world, you took what you wished, with no regard to others. You corrupted Fukishima, a promising student and one whom I...never mind."

"You scorned and insulted Master Sensei, even after he helped rescue you from Dr. Hall's clutches," she continued, once she had gained some composure. After myself and Kim Possible helped you escape Dr. Hall, you forced us into a pool of lava, hoping that we would meet our doom. You were prepared to throw an innocent child into a volcano and when you didn't get what you wanted, when you wanted it, you were prepared to corrupt that child to your will. Even if you were here, I could never express the disgust I have for you. You, who had everything; wealth, fame, status and respect. Yet, you were not satisfied."

"Can you understand?" She whispered, now taking up her broom again. "Can one without honor understand the rage of one who has always sought to conduct herself with honor? It is only honor that keeps you whole at this moment. Even here, in a ninja school, I could easily fetch a hammer and reduce you to rubble before any would question me. I confess that I am sorely tempted to do so. I confess that I believe it would be best if I did so, yet I will not do so."

"I am not so arrogant as you," she admitted. "I do not know if such an action would be doing the Yono's will, so I will not do so. That, and there is one other consideration."

"Are you like Judas, in the Christian Religion?" She asked, now pausing again in her chores. "Were you only playing your part? Did you have a choice, or did you perform a task that needed to be done? Because of your greed for power, the chosen one became imbued with the Mystical Monkey Power. Because of your covetousness for the blade, a betrayer in our very midst was exposed. Because of your shortcomings, the Han proved capable of defeating the Yono and the chosen one threw back the invasion."

"Yet here you stand," she concluded. "A sliver of a dishonorable soul, in the heart of an organization that values honor. Are you an icon of what we should not be, or are you a poison shard that will destroy Yamanouchi. Let me warn you, Fiske, even though you cannot hear me, I shall be on my guard."

* * *

 _A/N: As always, big thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for his beta reading._


	3. Chapter 3

"Master Sensei," the young student bowed low in the door of the old man's study, as was proper. "It is my honor to present Dr. Director, of the Global Justice Organization."

"By all means, see her in." The old man rose to his feet. "I believe that she may find the sound of the fountains soothing."

The student took the hint, simultaneously bowing the dark-haired woman into the office while bowing himself out.

"Dr. Director," the master of the Yamanouchi School greeted his guest with a polite bow. "It is my honor to meet you."

"The honor is mine," Sensei observed his guest's one eye scanning him, efficiently, up and down. He took the opportunity to do the same as she returned his bow. Fit, observant, intelligent, curious.

"The title of doctor conveys a certain respect," Sensei noted, as they both straightened. "So perhaps addressing you as such will convey proper regard, while saving some time." He now offered his guest his hand, in a western-style greeting.

"Only if the title of sensei is suitable to you," she answered. He noted that her grip was firm, strong, but not overpowering.

"It would seem that we have an agreement," he allowed a touch of humor to show in his eyes. "Would you please be seated?"

"My pleasure."

He noted that she waited for him to lower himself to his knees first, as befitted the younger, before lowering herself gracefully to the low table.

"I hope that you had a pleasant trip up the mountain," he noted. "While I am sure you are used to the conveniences of modern transportation, our customs call for new visitors to arrive by foot."

"The views were both beautiful and serene," she answered. Sensei noted that if she was fatigued from the climb, she wasn't showing it. "And I prefer to respect others' customs, whenever possible."

Around the study, water suddenly started flowing through several fountains, cascading over rocks and tricking into small pools.

"Ah!" Sensei declared. "I find the music of the fountains to be most conducive to efficient meetings."

"And such music makes it more difficult for anyone outside this room to overhear," Dr. Director's smile was just a touch humorous.

"It _is_ a ninja school," Sensei's eyes twinkled. "I can hardly punish students for attempting to hone their craft. Especially in this case; my students will wish to know why Global Justice has seen fit to call upon this school at this time."

"Of course," Dr. Director clearly saw the lead-in. "Sensei, I have no doubt that you know the purpose of my organization. Global Justice exists to counter certain...enhanced...criminals."

Sensei nodded slightly, encouraging her to continue.

"We exist to deal with the criminal that local law enforcement cannot counter; those with high technology, physical enhancement or even mystical assets. And we do this by working with these overwhelmed law enforcement agencies. It is not Global Justice's intent to impose our will on any other nation, but to assist these other nations so that enhanced villains do not have the opportunity to turn themselves into global threats."

"A most noble cause," Sensei noted. "And one that your organization has been performing admirably, according to my sources."

"Thank you," the doctor offered a slight nod. "Performing these duties means that I also work with gifted individuals, those who donate their time and efforts for the service of others. We have a strong association with Kim Possible and, by extension, Ron Stoppable. Because of this, I knew about Montgomery Fiske's enhancements and his infatuation with monkey related mysticism. However, I was not aware of your organization until the two young people informed me of the decision that you and Earl Snidely had reached."

"And being a diligent head of Global Justice, you wanted to take the measure of this organization to see if it is a threat to your duties," Sensei concluded.

"Or a potential ally," Director added. "Neither Kim nor Ron were willing to say very much, but what they were willing to say was complimentary."

"No organization is completely saintly," Sensei confessed. "We have our purpose and sometimes perform distasteful deeds in order to do what we must. Yet, perhaps a short tour, explaining where we come from, will go far to let you know what we wish to accomplish." The old man rose to his feet and noted that Dr. Director gracefully followed, showing no dismay about more walking after her climb to the top of the mountain.

"You have undoubtedly done what research you could about my organization and facilities," he stated, conversationally, while leading her out of his study. "If I could be so bold as to ask you what you have learned, I will be able to add to your knowledge more effectively."

"I've learned that a warrior monk carved this monastery out of the mountain in the fourth century," she replied. "That's the limit of what I know."

"Ah, Toshimiru," Sensei smiled. "And young Stoppable only says what I suggested that he should. The story of Toshimiru is true, Dr. Director, but it is not the origin of Yamanouchi. Instead, one could say that this was when Yamanouchi became enhanced to perform its self-appointed task."

By now, Sensei had led his guest from his study, out of the building and onto the grounds. Students in shinobi shozoku were leaping silently between buildings. Other students were sparing or performing other exercises. Sensei noted the clinical, analytical expression in his audience's eye as she observed these activities.

"While we practice several Japanese disciplines, Yamanouchi's origin is Chinese. During the later part of the reign of Qin Shi Huang, the emperor became increasingly erratic," Sensei told his guest, as if they were discussing the weather instead of an event that took place over two thousand years ago. "He became obsessed with his imminent death and demanded that his trusted advisers make him immortal. Among the actions he took was to order twelve trusted captains to take ship to the corners of the world and return with immortality. Of course, the captains knew that if they failed to return with their quarry, they and their crews would be tortured to death."

"One captain had more foresight, or perhaps had better connections at court," Sensei continued, now overlooking the dragon course, where students strove to run as quickly and silently as possible. "He learned of the emperor's intentions and managed to spirit the families of his crew away and hide them aboard his ship. When the ship set sail, there was nothing compelling him or his crew to return to the emperor's grasp. Instead of seeking immortality, a foolish quest, he brought his crew to Japan, burned the ship and led his people up into the mountains, where they couldn't be easily found."

"So Yamanouchi was founded?" Director asked.

"Perhaps the roots of Yamanouchi," Sensei corrected her. "You see, while this captain had nothing compelling him to return to China, he was not happy with the turn of events," Sensei explained. "In China, he had high office, wealth and property. All of the hard and faithful work he had devoted to the emperor was now wasted due to the emperor's irrational belief that a mortal could become immortal. He had an understandable antipathy towards what we would call the occult, so he sought to stamp out those who practiced magic. Much as today, there were those who took comfort in the promises that a swindler would give, rather than the more complicated answers that real life often presents. Many hands were raised against against this settlement, so they were forced to defend themselves. Records are incomplete, but a monk or two might have been among the refugees, so they had skill in some forms of Kung-fu."

"Monkey Kung-fu," Director nodded.

"Not at that time," Sensei smiled at his guest's tendency to jump to conclusions, no matter how logical. "Centuries passed and the descendants of the original refugees were visited by another man, Toshimiru. This warrior monk had fallen into disfavor with the current emperor, as he had recently mastered a supernatural force called the Mystical Monkey Power, used it to forge a powerful weapon called the Lotus Blade, and had then realized that neither power nor blade should be placed in the emperor's control. Much as the captain centuries before, the monk was forced to flee China and had found refuge in Japan. The elders in the settlement were distrustful of his claims, but he proved his story by carving the very mountain with the blade and displaying other mystical powers, as well."

By now, they were passing through classrooms, where students were studying in a manner that could have been almost any school in the world.

"This troubled the elders a great deal, as they now had undeniable proof that the supernatural, which they had denied for centuries, was real. The elders changed their attitude, and invited those who claimed that they could perform acts that defied logic to come and prove their skill. This new openness led to a merging of Japanese and Chinese traditions, such as a merging of Kung-fu and ninjitsu, an art that we practice to this day. However, Yamanouchi gained something else from Toshimiru; the tradition of serving a greater purpose."

"Thus, Yamanouchi was truly born," Sensei concluded. "We search out those who would use what we call magic for inimical reasons. It is as much an act of self-preservation as it is altruistic; for we have learned that those who would exploit such powers...or others' belief in them...inevitably will seek to destroy those who would question them. We have learned that it is best to function in the shadows, as we must at times take actions that governments would find disagreeable."

By now, he had led her into the training hall, which was thankfully deserted, and to the statue that fixed its terrified gaze over the facility.

"So now we come to Fiske," Director noted. "Both literally and figuratively."

"Indeed," Sensei nodded at the humor. "The man who instigated this very meeting. I will not claim that Toshimiru was not corruptible, but his heart was very pure. However, the emperor pressured him to use the Mystical Monkey Power for the benefit of the empire, which was not always in compliance with the teachings of his monastery, nor the goals of the Mystical Monkey Power itself. Realizing that this power could be misused through indirect pressure such as he was experiencing, he embedded the power into four statues, and scattered them through southern Asia. His intent was that a pure warrior, seeking this power, would have to seek out all four statues in turn, and gain the approval of the monks at each temple, before becoming empowered."

"But his plans didn't work out," Dr. Director noted.

"Time crumbles mountains to dust," Sensei mused. "So it can certainly destroy the plans of men. One by one, the temples were abandoned and fell into ruin. As the centuries passed, the Mystical Monkey Power became a legend, a myth that nobody truly believed ever existed. Even we of Yamanouchi, who guarded the blade that was imbued with this power, ceased to believe our own teachings...until Fiske heard the legends and decided to investigate."

"I've read the reports," she replied, studying the stone form in front of her. "He collected the statues, Ron investigated the theft, and Stoppable became charged."

"But you do not know the full story," Sensei chided her, gently. "In fact, I do not know how accurate my suspicions happen to be. You see, doctor, the Mystical Monkey Power has both a will and a purpose. It's purpose is to ensure the survival of the primate life form. With the jade statues scattered and lost, it's ability to affect events upon Earth was compromised, and foretold events were close to occurring. It is my belief that once Fiske found the first statue, the Mystical Monkey Power used its limited influence to wake in him a lust for power, compelling him to recover the other three statues. Yet it also awakened an arrogance in him, a desire to have others do the dirty work, so to speak. By doing so, it compelled him to call a hero, one who would be more to the power's liking."

"Ron Stoppable?" Dr. Director asked, confused.

"I do not believe that it chose anybody," Sensei admitted. "However, I believe that once Kim Possible handled the last statue, the Mystical Monkey Power chose its new wielder, her. It influenced Fiske to steal the last statue, from himself, and in view of young Possible. It was a foolish act, as a little patience would have given Fiske all of the statues with no suspicion upon him. However, events intervened and it was Stoppable who investigated his mansion, not Possible."

"And so here we are now," Dr. Director concluded. "Global Justice has a strong interest in Kim Possible, which means that we also have an interest in Ron Stoppable."

"Much as Yamanouchi has a strong interest in Ron Stoppable, which means that we have an interest in Miss Possible." Sensei added.

"The goals of our organizations do not appear to be contrary," she continued. "Mystical powers would give criminals a strong advantage over local law enforcement agencies. This would require intervention by Global Justice."

"And Yamanouchi has no desire to see the criminal element rise to power, no mater the location on the globe," Sensei agreed.

"Master Sensei, I would like to propose an alliance, of sorts," Dr. Director suggested. "Since we are not working at cross purposes, perhaps agreeing to exchange information will be beneficial to both of our organizations."

"And perhaps such an exchange will allow us to take each other's measure, to determine if closer cooperation would be desirable," Sensei agreed, now leading her back out of the training hall. "Let us discuss this in my study, where refreshments await and where we the soothing sounds of my fountains will surround us."

"An excellent suggestion," Dr. Director nodded. "But if I may ask, what are you currently doing about the mystery that Fiske has generated?"

"Oh, we are gathering such information that we can," Sensei assured her. "But you know how it goes; a rumor here, a snippet there. Often, it is only after the fact that you can see how the parts you have collected all fit together." He paused. "On an act of good faith, I will tell you that that I am taking a more active role. I have sent an agent to infiltrate an organization that may have a little more information about the dealings of Yono the Destroyer."

* * *

Yori stared at the foolish man with the proper expression of ill-disguised contempt. Actually, she was staring at several fools; but all of them except one thought that they were smart. Did that make the last man, who knew he was being foolish, less or more the fool?

It wasn't for Yori to decide, as it wasn't for the arrogant, gold-digging, party-girl that she was portraying to decide. She was arm-candy, eye-candy. She was there to look hot and impress, much like the sports car that she was sitting in at this time. Of course, the door was open and she was sitting sideways in the seat, her heels resting on the street and her miniskirt showing a scandalous view of her thighs. She was the boss's girl and was on display for the two thugs with him. _Work hard, be loyal, maybe you can have the suit, the watch, the style, the car and the girl someday._

She was on display for the idiot making the deal, as well. The message she conveyed was clear; _the boss wants to get the job done and get back to his girl, his increasingly bored girl. Take too much time and she's going to make it rougher for the boss to get his action. If she makes it rougher for the boss to get his action, he's going to make it rougher on you._ She knew the part to play, the girl who got off on the tough guy, the money, and the power.

The deal was struck. The boss's two enforcers heated a small iron with a propane torch and gave the fool a brand on the back of his hand. The marked man took it stoically, biting back any scream and blinking back any tears. The boss would be good for his word; a rival brothel in the soaplands would suffer some misfortune and the newly marked fool would be paying a steep price, in both yen and favors, for some time.

With the deal done, Yori strutted around the car, in plain view of all of the men, showing off her figure with every move, to open the boss's door. Once he was in and seated, she strutted back to the passenger side and took her seat, making sure to give everyone a good view of her legs. She was another of the boss's possessions, and she was to show herself off at every opportunity. The man gunned the engine a little, more showing off, and pulled out of the alley and onto a busy, nighttime street. His two enforcers followed in a more practical vehicle.

He snapped his fingers and stated a name. Yori knew the drill, she pressed the proper buttons on the car's hands-free call system. The phone rang, the appropriate man answered and Yori studiously looked out of the window at the passing street, giving the boss his privacy while he conducted business.

As if she had no ears and couldn't hear what he was saying.

Was this going to be the night? The contempt he held for her was almost nauseating. How foolish could the girls who chose this life be? How foolish could the Yakuza pigs think that they were? Even if she were what she appeared to be, she would have known that her life was soon to end. Yori had observed enough in these last two weeks; easily the longest two weeks of her life, to put him behind bars for the rest of his life. Could anyone be so foolish to think that the boss's eye candy would ever be able to leave such a life?

Two more calls. He could have easily programmed the vehicle's autodial to take care of it, but this was part of the power, having the eye candy take care of the trivial detail. By the time he was finished, they were at the apartment building.

"No party tonight?" She pouted. A party-girl would want to go to the club, to smoke, drink and dance.

"Something came up, babe," he answered, as if she hadn't heard every word that he had said during the three calls. "I'll just be an hour or so."

"Don't keep me waiting." She leaned across the seat to kiss him, deeply and passionately, as if he were the most important thing in the world to her and her very life depended upon him. By now, the doorman had reached the car but she ignored him, continuing to play the part that she didn't care that the servant was waiting. The passenger door opened and she took the man's hand, kicking her legs a little higher than necessary while she exited the car.

"I'll be back in about an hour," the boss called to the doorman. "My boys will be taking care of my girl while I'm gone."

"Of course, Mr. Tsuyoi."

Yori managed to hid her surprise at the familiar, but not in this setting, voice.

"What happened to Shizuka?" The boss demanded of the unfamiliar doorman.

"He seems to have eaten something that did not agree with him, Mr. Tsuyoi," the big man responded. "The agency that sent me to replace him made sure I understood the need for discretion."

"Make sure you remember it," the boss grumbled.

"Of course," Hirotaka, in a doorman's garb, offered a polite bow and closed the door. The boss revved his engine again before rolling off on his way. By now, one of the enforcers had driven the other car off to park, while the second enforcer offered his arm to Yori. Still playing the part, Yori swung her hips and showed off for the few people around, calling as much attention to herself as she could as she was led to the elevator.

"I'm not ready to turn in yet," she informed her guard. "And I hate to drink alone. Care for a nightcap?"

"Sure," the man shrugged.

"How about your friend?"

"Yeah, one for him, too."

That was all the answer that Yori needed. The lack of manners and willingness to drink on the job told her that the boss's girl had just reached the end of her usefulness. The two would sample a bit of the boss's leftovers before cleaning up the mess. Yori wondered, idly, if the fact that the burly man before her wanted a drink before doing the deed made him more or less of a pig. In the end, it didn't matter, a pig was a pig. She poured three glasses of scotch while the man awkwardly took a seat at at the apartment's bar. For a moment, she wondered if she should use the drug concealed in the flashy ring on her right, index finger but decided not to. The man might spot her.

Besides, after what she had been through for the last two weeks, she wanted some payback.

She took a small sip of her drink while the guard tossed his back. He looked at her just a bit as he carefully set down the glass. She recognized most of the look; blatant lust and jealousy...but was there just a touch of pity or regret? She pushed the contemplation out of her mind; even if he felt a touch of regret, it wouldn't keep him from doing what he had been ordered to do.

Nor would it keep him from taking a little extra compensation in the prcess.

The second guard showed up and the first one gestured to the third glass of scotch. The newcomer seemed a little surprised, then grateful. He didn't take a seat, but tossed back the drink before sharing a look with his partner.

"Care for another round?" Yori asked them. After all, getting them drunk would make things a little easier, if less satisfying.

"No," the first man answered. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "girl, this can go easy or it can go hard. It's your choice."

"You think you're going to lay a hand on me?" Yori snapped back. "Tsuyoi will be using your balls as paperweights if you try anything."

"Mr. Tsuyoi ordered it," he sighed. "Kid, you have to know that you've seen too much, heard to much. You've had your little fun ride on the top of the heap, but now it's time to pay. Like I said, this can go easy or it can go hard, your choice."

A party-girl, whose only value lay in the attraction she had to men, would have panicked at this point, so Yori screamed and made a clumsy attempt to run around the bar and to the door. The second guard may have been a pig, but he was neither slow nor clumsy; he caught her by the upper arm as she attempted to run by. With a lazy expression, he lifted the other hand to deliver the backhand that would bring both silence and compliance...

If Yori was what she appeared to be.

Quick as a serpent, Yori's hand lashed out to drive stiffened fingers into her assailant's armpit. She continued to scream, momentarily drowning out the man's gasp of surprise and pain. Instinctively, he jerked back and Yori clung to him as she launched herself, adding his strength to her own. The first thug had only a moment to realize that the prey was fighting back when her stiletto heel stabbed into his thigh. She kicked off the shoe, leaving it stuck in the man's large muscle, and kept moving.

The second thug hadn't adapted to the fact that his right arm wasn't obeying commands. Yori gave him no time to come to grips with his injury; a quick strike knocked his left arm out of the way and allowed her to first kick him in the groin, then jump upwards to drive a knee into his chin. The moment her feet struck the ground after her attack, she spun and lunged to one side. It was a wise precaution.

The first man, despite being a pig, was not undisciplined. An expandable club whistled through the air where she had been a moment ago. Yori kicked off her other shoe, sending it flying at his face. He moved his head to one side, not giving her an opening, allowing the shoe to fly past him and shatter a couple of the bar's bottles. She darted forward, twisting nimbly out of the way when he lashed out with the club again. It wasn't a clumsy blow, but Yori had faced much more skilled, and uninjured, opponents. She parried the strike with her knuckles and landed a kick to the back of his uninjured knee. All of his weight slid to his injured leg, causing him to stumble. It was all the opportunity that she needed; she caught his weapon-hand in a thumb lock and twisted it savagely. Before he could strike with the other hand, she delivered a powerful elbow to the side of his head and when he staggered, drove her knee deep into his solar plexus. Letting him drop to the ground, she spun to the second man, only to be interrupted by a mundane sound.

The doorbell rang.

Keeping an eye on the two, weakly writhing men, she keyed the bar's intercom switch.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Scheduled cleanup and removal," Hirotaka's voice answered. Now smiling, but not letting down her guard, Yori pressed the button to unlock the door.

Hirotaka, in his doorman's uniform, led in four more Yamanouchi ninja, who were dressed in workman's uniforms and carrying a couple of carpets. Yori closed the door behind them. There was neither time, nor need, for gossip. While Yori rushed to grab a rag so that she could clean up the broken bottle, Hirotaka grabbed the second man and hoisted him into the air.

"One-hundred and eleven," he reported.

In response, one of the other ninja pulled a syringe and ampule from a pocket, then filled the needle. Hirotaka dropped the man and went to the other while the ninja injected a sedative into the second man.

"One-hundred and eighteen," Hirotaka announced, upon hoisting the first man. The ninja with the needle refilled his implement.

While the ninja with the sedative administered to the first man, the final two ninja grabbed the second man and rolled him into one of the rugs. They then unrolled a new rug and spread it where the original had been. By the time Yori had finished picking up the shattered bottle and wiping up the spilled gin, both goons had been rolled up and both new carpets were now set in place. Hirotaka gave her a concerned look, but Yori shook her head; she was fine to complete this mission. Offering a nod of support, Hirotaka led the four, supposed workmen, with each pair carrying a rolled up carpet, out of the apartment. She closed the door after them and took a few moments to collect her thoughts.

She knew what would happen to the thugs; the ninja would drive them to a quiet part of the city, riffle through their possessions to glean any information, and lift their fingerprints. They would be left to wake up on their own. If they were smart, they would develop an immediate interest in international travel. If they were loyal, they would try to find out what happened to their boss. It was Yori's job to make sure that very little news would be available.

Barefoot, she picked up her purse then padded to the bedroom; where her latest assignment had required her to submit to such humiliating actions. " _Your body is a tool, to be used to perform your task,_ " she reminded herself. " _Sometimes a fist works best, sometimes an elbow or knee. Sometimes a sympathetic hand on a shoulder will get the job done. Sometimes, you will need to use your body in another way. Remember that it is merely a tool and use it appropriately._ "

Perhaps she wasn't the completely obedient daughter of Yamanouchi that she strove to be; she was very grateful that she wouldn't have to use her body in such a matter again. Instead of reflecting that she had not yet come to view her body as just another tool, she prepared herself for what was to come. Pulling her fighting fans out of her purse, she reviewed what she knew about Tsuyoi. She didn't have long to wait.

Of course, she was unable to hear them in the hall; the floors and walls of this luxurious apartment building were heavily soundproofed. However, she heard the lock click, then the low chuckling and higher-pitched giggling. She forced and iron control over her temper; the pig had gone out to select another girl the same night he had arranged for her disposal! While she had known that he would eventually move on, she had hoped that she had been a little more remarkable than that! Pushing such thoughts down, she considered how the new girl's presence would complicate things and came to the conclusion that it would be better to just get it over with as soon as possible.

She padded back down the hall to the main room. When she emerged, the boss was dropping ice cubes into a pair of glasses so the new girl, dressed remarkably like Yori was, saw her first.

"So, it's going to be one of those types of parties?" The unnamed girl asked, prompting Tsuyoi to look up, and gawk in astonishment.

Unfortunately for Yori, the boss hadn't reached his position by being either slow or foolish. In a split-second, he deduced that Yori still being around, while his guards weren't, could only mean trouble. Quick as lightning, he dropped the glasses and reached into his jacket, but Yori was every bit as fast. She had her fans out and in front of her by the time he pulled out his blade, remarkably similar to a ninjato. The new girl screamed as he slashed, but Yori used her fans like a matador's cape, concealing her exact location and redirecting the steel into the wood of the bar. With the blade wedged, she struck his wrist with a knife-hand, yet he did not appear fazed by the attack. He grunted slightly and pulled the blade from the wood.

Again, Yori used her fans to conceal herself while Tsuyoi stabbed at her. She twisted slightly as the metal punched through one of the fans, the sharp blade nicking her blouse. She seized the extended wrist, braced one of her feet on the bar, and pulled with all her might. Somewhat off balance from the thrust, Tsuyoi was yanked from behind the bar. He wasn't clumsy; he managed to tuck his head and roll when he hit the floor, but he had developed a great deal of momentum. As he rolled, Yori yanked back sharply on the wrist she still held. The thug gasped in pain and dropped the blade as his wrist snapped.

During all this time, the new girl continued to scream. In the back of her mind, Yori didn't know if she should be irritated at the noise or impressed with her lung capacity. She had no time to consider this more deeply; Tsuyoi may have been without honor, but he was not without valor. He sprang to his feet, showing more rage than pain. Yori quickly kicked the sword under a couch and closed with her prey. He made use of his greater reach and kicked at her before she could strike. It wasn't a clumsy blow, but Yori's speed and agility were greater than his; she ducked beneath the strike and kicked his supporting ankle. He dropped onto his back, but one flailing hand struck an over-stuffed chair with enough force to shatter the legs.

Yori was taken aback for a moment; she had never suspected such brute strength! The moment's advantage she had gained by knocking the air from his lungs was squandered by her gawking. Before she could move in and incapacitate him, he grabbed the broken chair and shoved it at her with impossible strength. She easily tumbled over the sliding furniture, but he had now slithered to the couch which she had kicked his blade under. This too, he shoved at her, forcing her to leap and tumble to avoid it.

Now he reached for the blade but Yori anticipated the move. When he extended his arm, she darted forward and buried her fingers into his armpit. Again, he gasped but did not allow the pain to rule him; he lashed out with his other arm, broken wrist and all, and caught her across her torso. The unbelievable force behind the blow sent her flying back, but she tucked and tumbled across the floor, then up the far wall, before setting her feet on the vertical surface. Extending her legs, she launched herself back at her quarry.

By now he had risen to a sitting position, but the arm she had just injured was slow. Sweeping by his sluggish block, she drove her elbow into his jaw. His head bounced off of the fresh carpet but he managed to seize her shoulder, even with his injured arm, and squeezed with impossible strength. Twisting what little she could in his iron grip, she lined up her next strike and drove her elbow three times, hard, into his solar plexus. Finally, his grip went loose and he simply lay limp on the floor. Yori lurched to her feet, noting that the other girl's wind had finally reached its limit and the scream had faded to a barely audible squeak. For a moment, the two young women regarded each other, then the doorbell rang again.

Keeping her eyes fixed on the stunned girl, Yori stumbled to the bar and keyed the intercom.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Second delivery," Hirotaka's voice answered.

"Excellent," she breathed a sigh of relief. "Silence would be best for you," she hissed to the girl, who could only nod, frantically. Yori pressed a button to unlock the door again, allowing Hirotaka to enter with another two men and a fresh carpet.

"He is very strong," she murmured to her partners.

Hirotaka nodded, then hoisted the boss...Yori refused to name him even in her thoughts...and announced that he weighed 114 kilos. Again, one of the other ninja filled a syringe with sedative while the other went through the boss's pockets and removed all possessions. On a whim, Yori pulled an impressive stack of yen from his wallet and kept a close eye on the girl, who had clearly been shocked into immobility. She made no effort to move while the ninja set a new rug in the bedroom, then rolled the boss into the old one and hauled him out the door.

"You should now realize that your current occupation has hazards you did not foresee," Yori told the shocked girl. She pressed the money into the trembling woman's hand. "May I suggest that you find your way to a new city and take up a very boring, but very safe job? Should you seek romance, perhaps a boring, but stable young man will now be more to your liking."

Not waiting for a response, Yori left the apartment and took the elevator to the lobby. There, the doorman...she refused to think of him as Hirotaka...had already summoned and paid for a cab. The cab took her deeper into Tokyo, to the back door of a service station. Without a word, Yori exited the cab and punched in the door's entry combination. The door let her into a storage room where, among the spare parts, lubricants and other supplies, she found a container with some clothing in her size.

Minutes later, she stepped back out the door, wearing the coveralls of a late night shift worker. She did not know the name of the service station, nor who owned it. She did not visit any room save the storage room. Her previous clothing, along with the identity she had lived for the past two weeks, was left in the garbage. Two blocks away, she boarded a bus that took her to the bus depot. There, she boarded a bus that took her out of the city. In a few hours, she would exit the bus in a village at the foot of a mountain. She was already looking forward to the baths, the temples and the training grounds of her home.

After her mission it would take a great deal of cleansing; physical, emotional and spiritual, before she would feel clean again.

* * *

After he received his twelfth spot, something changed for Fiske; the Yono started to speak with him.

He was working on an aqueduct, high above the ground, when the demon was suddenly there, standing on thin air. Despite his precarious perch on a stone scaffold, Fiske did his best to bow to his master. The Yono simply waved for him to continue his labors.

"I note that you speak to other souls, all who will speak to you," Yono chuckled. "What do you seek to learn, Fiske?"

"I want to know your secrets," Fiske admitted, knowing that it would make no sense to try to lie to the ruler of this hell. "I want to know your past and more of this afterlife that I'm in."

Agonizing pain filled him for a moment, leaving him clinging desperately to avoid a fall. Fiske had learned, the hard way, that physical injuries always healed, but the pain was just as intense as while he was alive.

"And what will you do with this knowledge?"

"I...don't know yet...master."

"Yet you have vague ideas of improving your lot here," Yono nodded at Fiske's remembering to show proper deference.

"Indeed, master," Fiske admitted. "Knowledge is power."

"It was," Yono shrugged, smiling. "Here, there is no power other than mine. Yet, you amuse me. Most have given up by the time they gain their tenth spot, but you continue to try to learn. If you wish to learn, ask me now."

"But master, if it will do no good, what is the point of spending your time answering me?"

"I said it would do you no good," Yono laughed again. "But it pleases me. Do you want to know how?"

"Of course, master," Fiske admitted.

"I am Yono the destroyer," he reminded his possession. "I destroy men, I destroy what they make, but the thing that is the sweetest to destroy is hope. I see the reason you seek knowledge, even if you won't admit it to yourself; you have hope. You hope to rise above being a doomed soul in hell but I'll tell you now, so your admission will become all the sweeter to me when it finally comes; there is no hope for you. Even when you finally become one of the monkeys that torments the souls at their labor; even when you become one of my soldiers, there is no hope for you. This is your fate for eternity and the longer you struggle against it, the longer you deny it, the more satisfying I will find it. So ask away Fiske, gain what knowledge you can so that I can watch you realize that what you think more valuable than gold is really less than dust."

* * *

 _A/N: As always, my thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading._


	4. Chapter 4

An institution that operates on information can not survive if it fails to adapt. Thus, after arranging for Dr. Director's lodging for the night, Master Sensei indulged himself in a bit of a guilty pleasure, one that might not seem usual for the head of a ninja school.

He watched a football game.

The game had actually been played several hours ago and had not been televised. Instead, he had arranged for the video to be emailed to him, for viewing at his convenience. He was not a fan of American football, although he appreciated the fitness, strength, coordination and teamwork that it demanded. Instead, he wanted to observe a particular player; and not just for his football prowess.

Early in the game, the announcers had stated that this was Ron Stoppable's first start, and that it was very rare for a redshirt freshman to start; especially when playing for Coach Roughman. Sensei watched the introductions, which included photos of all starters, and noted that the young man in question had started to fill out his frame. As the game began, the old man indulged himself with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of Kirin.

Of course he noted that young Stoppable was very fast, even compared to the fit young men with whom he shared the field. While neither Upperton University, which Stoppable was attending, nor the University of Montana, against whom he was playing, were elite programs, they still fielded excellent athletes.

The old man fast-forwarded through those times that the Upperton offense was not on the field, reducing his viewing time. He observed more than just Stoppable's running and catching; he also observed the boy's blocking and how he conducted himself during the game. The young man did not seem to celebrate to excess; although he did perform the traditional spike after scoring a touchdown. During one particular play, Stoppable missed a block, which resulted in a sack. The head coach gave the boy a severe tongue-lashing, which left him sitting dejectedly on the bench until such time that he was on the field again. Sensei noted that the boy reacted too strongly to such a reprimand...yet he seemed to rebound quickly. When the Upperton offense returned to the field, his performance didn't suffer. In fact, he managed a solid block that bought the quarterback the time needed to complete a pass, even at the cost of being knocked to the ground.

Towards the end of the game, young Stoppable's role became more pronounced, as Upperton University had the lead and used the running game to control the ball while the remaining time ran out. On a third down, the boy rushed for the needed yardage for the first down, then ducked back inside, sacrificing a few yards and withstanding another hard tackle, but keeping the clock running so that victory was assured. The Upperton quarterback then knelt a couple of times, finalizing the outcome.

It was then that Sensei noted something else that he found interesting. With the game over, the players and others associated with the teams came onto the field to celebrate the outcome or exchange a few pleasantries with their competitors. As the young man he was observing shook hands with several of the Montana players, a cheerleader with long, blonde hair led Hana to him. Idly scratching his mustache, Sensei wondered what this could mean.

* * *

Kim was more than aggravated with her brothers. Part of the post-game routine for home games was that she led Hana out to the field to Ron. There, the little girl would solemnly accompany him, carrying his helmet for him, from the field to the athletic center. While Coach Roughman didn't impose on his players' lives more than he had to, he was very strict during practices and games; there was no fraternization between players and their significant others during such...especially if the significant other was a cheerleader. Taking Hana to 'help' her big brother gave Kim a little early contact with her boyfriend...to either prop him up if he was feeling down or share in the good feelings if he was up.

Today had been his first start, and he had performed very well. Kim wanted to get to him quickly and tell him how proud she was of him, but her brothers had been...well...her brothers.

Apparently, they were dealing with a bully at high school but, in typical Jim and Tim fashion, they didn't know when they had paid him back enough. They had already installed servos in the boy's locker, so the door pummeled him every time he approached it. They had installed rocket engines in his homeroom desk, which had taken the boy on a wild ride through Middleton High's hallways one morning. Not only had the bully quit bullying everyone, he was scared of lockers and desks. Mr. Barkin, now the principal, had called the two young Possibles in and told them, in no uncertain terms, to knock it off. The tweebs followed the instructions...at school. Here, out of Barkin's jurisdiction, they took the opportunity to hack the stadium's digital scoreboard to display unflattering examples of the bully's intelligence, gracefulness and hygiene. Furthermore, the two had given the 'rents the slip, so Kim had to step in and track them down before the public attacks became even more personal. Fortunately, Tara was an absolute dear and offered to take Hana out to meet her brother. The little girl knew the blonde just well enough to know that she wasn't a stranger.

Before long, Kim had tracked her brothers down to their hiding spot behind the control booth, grabbed both by an ear and marched them back to their decidedly less than amused parents. Despite the irritation with the younger Possibles, neither Kim's parents nor the Stoppables were going to pass up the opportunity to spend some time with their older children. An agreement was made to meet the kids at the Student Union Building in ninety minutes. The Stoppables left to collect Hana at the Athletic Center while Kim made her way to her dorm room.

She didn't exactly have to rush, but she was getting ready for more than just a dinner out with her folks. She showered and brushed out her hair before putting on slacks and a fairly dressy blouse. She packed an overnight bag, finishing as Tara came into the room. Tara didn't say anything but offered a small smile that told Kim she understood that she'd have the room to herself that night. A quick text told her that Ron was also about ready, so she went out to her car. She loaded the bag into the Sloth's trunk and looked up to see her boyfriend approaching with a bag of his own and a cooler. She approved of his wardrobe; he cleaned up well when he wanted to and he clearly wanted to at this time. No words were needed, he loaded his bag next to hers and plugged the cooler into the Sloth's power outlet. They held hands as they walked to the Student Union to meet the parents.

They only had a few minutes of waiting before the Possibles and Stoppables showed up. Of course, Mrs. Stoppable had to put Hana down so she could run to her big brother. Ron scooped up the little girl while he and Kim went to meet the parents under more private conditions than a football field. Hugs and handshakes were shared. It only took a few minutes to decide on a place to dine. The parents agreed to meet their children there. The Sloth had a built-in child seat so Hana was able to ride with Kim and Ron, making her an official big kid.

The chain restaurant did have a line, this being a game night, but the evening was pleasant. Several of the patrons waiting to dine had attended the game and recognized both Ron and Kim. Realizing that they were representing both the team and the cheerleading squad, the two made a point to be friendly. While Kim expected people to want to talk to her, she was both surprised and gratified to see people wanting to speak to her boyfriend and get his autograph, as well as hers.

In due course, the large party was seated. Here, in a more private setting, the parents felt more free to grill their children about classes, friends both new and old, other aspects of college life and, of course, about THEM. The parents were all relieved to learn that their children were earning good (and excellent, in Kim's case) grades, were on top of their academic situations and were closer than ever.

By the time the food arrived, the conversation had switched to what the adults were doing, so the conversation turned to gravity windows, cranial trauma (this with a pointed look at Ron) and risk assessment (this pointed looks at both of them; both sets of parents knew how dangerous cheerleading could be). For all that the 'rents wanted to pry, they were too busy admonishing her brothers to really get into the spirit of an inquisition.

All too soon for the married adults, the meal was finished. Hana had drifted off and it was clear that it was time to leave. They left the restaurant and gathered by the vehicles, again exchanging hugs, handshakes and promises to keep in touch. Next week's game would be away, so they wouldn't gather for another two weeks. Kim and Ron watched as their parents and siblings drove away. With that, they climbed into the Sloth, but they didn't return to campus.

They had discovered the Upperton Mountain Resort Cabins late last school year. While it was an old facility...quaint by some definitions, it was well maintained. Since it didn't boast typical ski lodge amenities, such as a pool, hot tubs, dining or a bar, it tended to have vacancy much more often than the more modern resorts. During the off season, like now, getting a reservation was easy and fairly inexpensive. In addition, it had two amenities the students appreciated.

First, the guest rooms were in separate cabins. This not only meant that certain noisy activities wouldn't draw any notice, it meant that the Sloth's motion sensors could be calibrated to cover the entire cabin, guarding against anyone that might want to put an ear to the wall or an eye to a window. Secondly, the cabins had been built before fast food was widespread, meaning that each cabin came with it's own kitchenette. For a couple that included a burgeoning chef, that was a wonderful thing to have. All in all, the Upperton Mountain Resort Cabins were the perfect place for the young couple to go on the rare times they had the opportunity to renew their intimacy.

Twenty minutes out of Upperton, they came to the office. Ron had already set up the reservations, so he he only had to hop out of the car and grab the key...they still used metal keys! A few minutes later, the two were at their cabin. Ron busied himself pulling the food he had brought out of the cooler and putting it into the small refrigerator while Kim slipped into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, then changed into a set of comfortable, cotton pajamas and a robe.

Robe smiled at her when she emerged from the bathroom. While Ron had never commented about her choice of attire during their romantic encounters, he clearly liked it best when she wore something comfortable. He kissed her as she slipped by him and he took his turn in the bathroom. She noted that he had lit a few candles around the room, so after she put her bag in the closet, she turned off the lights and set her Kimmunicator to play soft music. She could hear that Ron was also brushing his teeth, which was a good thing. The two had wildly different tastes when it came to spices and mixing the two could kill the mood.

She was a little nervous, and her mind went back to the fallout from when they had first become intimate. She remembered the make out session on the couch and how she had gotten up, took his hand and led him up to his room. She remembered him being a little hesitant but she told him that she needed this. That was supposed to be a teenage boys dream and it was for a couple of weeks, before he realized that she needed the act more than she needed him being the one who she was doing it with. The fallout from that hadn't been pleasant and hadn't been helped when Bonnie made a move on him during homecoming, but it had been necessary. She realized that she needed help but she couldn't go to just anyone; had she admitted that she knew the fate of the missing Fiske, it would have brought unacceptable attention to Yamanouchi. Claiming she had been turned to stone would have probably resulted in her being institutionalized. She turned to Dr. Director, who set her up with a therapist. It had taken time, but she had dealt with the issue.

Now, she didn't need this; but she really, _really_ wanted it.

The bathroom door opened and she could just see Ron's shadowy form as he put his bag in the closet. He could pick up on her cues just as much as she could pick up on his. He was wearing sweat pants and an athletic shirt, the sort of shirt that allowed her so see the effects the football program had had on his body. She removed her robe and stood in front of the window, where the outside light, dimmed by the curtains, would be sure to silhouette her figure. She was more than a little gratified to see him approaching her then stop for a few moments, transfixed.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky.

Then his arms were around her and hers were around him, their mouths were joined and it was time to stop analyzing things.

* * *

Later, their passions temporarily sated, they were tucked into bed, their sleepwear back on and the candles extinguished. She was drifting off, feeling slightly guilty. She knew that Ron liked to cuddle but she simply couldn't sleep while doing so. Sure, her side was pressed against his side and during the night, she would probably roll onto her side and put her back up against him but when it came to having his arms around her, she couldn't sleep.

Oh, she liked to cuddle well enough during foreplay and during the afterglow; but when it came to sleep, she just couldn't. Before her first sessions with the therapist, some of the best sleep she could remember had been when she and Ron were completely intertwined. She suspected that it was something to do with her innate stubbornness; her way of subconsciously trying to keep some independence. Being in bed with Ron was relaxing, so maybe it was another way that her mind had of declaring that she wanted him, but didn't need him.

She took solace in the fact that this was a minor issue. They were together, they loved and supported each other, and they completed each other. The fact that she couldn't sleep while cuddling wasn't a real obstacle. Besides, she could make it up to him in the morning...in a way that was just as good for her as it was for him. She fell asleep with a naughty smirk on her face.

A whimpering sound woke her in the dark. Struggling to get her bearings, she felt thrashing next to her, along with more whimpering.

"Ron..." she whispered to him, shaking his shoulder.

"No...no! I didn't mean..."

"Ron!" She was more forceful, with both her voice and her hand.

"Huh? Wha..." Even in the dim light, she could how wide his eyes were, how panicked his expression was.

"Are you okay?" She cringed inwardly when she asked him. It was clear that he wasn't okay.

"Sure," he quickly mumbled. "It was just a bad dream. I'll get over it again."

"Again?" She demanded. "And that sounded more like a nightmare! Tell me, what was happening?"

He hesitated and mumbled, trying to organize his thoughts. Finally, he sat up, still trembling. Kim slid behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso. "Please," she whispered to him. "Let me be there for you, just like you've been there for me."

As much as foolish, testosterone-soaked pride might tell him not to, he couldn't say no to her when she asked. It wasn't completely coherent, and Kim was sure that there were a lot of details left out, but she got the gist of the issue.

It started with Warhok claiming that he would have her stuffed and mounted on Warmonga's wall as a gift. Ron described how it wasn't a boast or threat, just a promise, like a boy promising to win a teddy bear for his girlfriend at a carnival. There was no sense that Kim was a living, thinking being; she was just a trophy to be remembered for her spirited, but futile, resistance. It was during that rage at how the Lowardians could be so callous towards her, towards the whole planet, that Master Sensei appeared and told him to unlock the Mystical Monkey Power. Using it, he defeated Warhok and rendered the walkers inoperable. It was then, with their spaceship plunging towards the Earth, that he felt the same dispassion that Warhok had displayed earlier; the Lowardians weren't living beings, they were tools to be used. He needed something to detonate the spaceship before it struck, and Warhok and Warmonga conveniently put themselves within reach.

The problem was, it hadn't stopped there. His mind reviewed everyone he knew, everyone who had ever harmed him, belittled him, insulted him, ignored him or simply made him feel inadequate just by existing.

Fiske.

Gill Moss.

Drakken and Shego.

Dementor.

Frugal Lucre, Motor Ed, Fukishima, DNAmy and the Senors.

Barkin, Bonnie, the D Hall bullies.

His parents, her parents, her brothers and Hana.

Felix, Yori, Tara and Zita.

Coach Roughman and the Montana U middle linebacker that had beat his blocking attempt.

Finally, Kim herself.

Because those you love the most also irritate you the most, on occasion, and at that moment he had the power to obliterate any of them...all of them. He could crush anyone in the world for any reason at all; even simple boredom. At the time, there had been no temptation to do so, but would it always be the case? Would he always be able to resist that primal urge to strike out?

It wasn't right that a human life could be snuffed out with no more thought than swatting a fly and the power to do just that was still inside of him...somewhere.

Kim simply knelt behind him, pressed up against his back and with her arms around him. She had heard it before, yes, and she had felt him tremble about it before. That didn't make it any easier on him. She was at a loss; when you had a nightmare about something you had done wrong, you could always go out and try to right the wrong.

What can you do about a nightmare you have about doing something right?

"You said 'again'", she pointed out.

"Yeah," he sighed, shuddering. "I've had the same nightmare twice since we saw Monty's statue back in England. I woke up Bill both times."

Bill was Ron's roommate and a backup fullback on the football team.

"How much does he know?" She asked.

"Not much," Ron told her. "He knows that we were very close to the Lowardians when they were destroyed. He doesn't know any more than that."

The fact that Ron had defeated the Lowardians was a closely guarded secret, something that even both sets of 'rents didn't know. Shego, Drakken, Sensei and Dr. Director knew. Maybe the head of Yamanouchi and the head of Global Justice had told a few, trusted subordinates but the number 'in the know' remained very small. Kim and Ron wanted to live as close to a normal life as possible and if it became public knowledge that Ron had defeated the aliens and destroyed their mother ship, that normal life would be out the window. Besides, if someone learned of this and decided that the best way to harness that power were to kidnap someone close to him, only to learn that the power came and went almost of its own will?

"Ron," she finally murmured. "Let's try to get some sleep. I'll call Dr. Director first thing Monday morning. You might need some discreet help."

If Ron were to see a counselor or a psychologist, said professional would have to be trustworthy and willing to believe things that most people didn't think were possible. Global Justice had provided a therapist for Kim, one who accepted the fact that a demon-monkey had turned her to stone without so much as a raised eyebrow. Hopefully, the organization would be willing, and able, to do the same for him.

"Sleep..." Ron murmured, touching the sheets with distaste. Kim immediately understood his issue, they were soaked with his sweat and fear sweat smells the worst. At least they had learned to do their...other activities...on top of the covers.

"C'mon," she hopped off of the bed. "We don't need sheets. We've slept in rougher places than a nice bed with clean blankets."

That seemed to rally him a little. He smiled, slid off the bed and helped her strip off the sheets. They put one blanket on the bed, then fetched a spare from the closet for on top of them. Maybe later in the year, when it was colder, it would be too chilly but for right now, it was comfortable. As they crawled in between the blankets, Kim slid close and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I didn't think you could sleep when we cuddle," Ron protested, albeit weekly. The close contact was already relaxing him.

"Some things are more important than sleep," she whispered back.

His arm settled around her, either holding her tight or just assuring himself that she was there. Either way, it had the desired effect; his breathing slowed and deepened. Exhausted herself, she gently slid out of his embrace and settled next to him; in contact but not holding him. Now, she could fully relax and get some much needed sleep.

Life was about to become more complicated.

* * *

Nighttime in Colorado was daytime in Japan, although the discussion in the council room seemed to dim the bright sun above.

"Welcome to the Yamanouchi School, Master Lishi," the old ninja greeted the Chinese guest. "I hope the helicopter ride to my facility was pleasant."

"The scenery was most striking," the very old man replied. "And since I understand that tradition dictates that a visitor walk up the mountain, it was much more convenient than depending on these old legs."

"Ah, the curse of wisdom," Sensei offered an honest smile to the old scholar. "At the time when the mind becomes truly useful, the body begins to fail. Yet, my subordinate, Master Rekishi, tells me that you may provide some insight into an issue that has been troubling us. Won't you please be seated?"

Master Rekishi, the master of the Yamanouchi archives, was old, but not so old as to allow a still older man, and one who was here on his invitation, to lower himself to the floor unaided. The scholar/ninja helped the Chinese man down to the mat, then sat next to him.

"There are very few who believe the ancient wisdom," Lishi pointed out. "So it is refreshing to speak to those who do not treat my findings with disdain."

"We at Yamanouchi have access to knowledge that others do not," Sensei nodded. "So we have learned to not discount certain things as impossible."

"Yet I waste your time with my musing," the guest sighed. "Let me get to the point. Master Rekishi asked me what use a supernatural power would have for allowing a soul he had once claimed to be returned, even partially, to the material world."

"I must interrupt," Master Sensei stated, mildly. "Is this what you have believe has happened with Fiske?"

"Indeed," the old Chinese man nodded. "My knowledge is not complete, but I know that most of these dark powers seek to subvert and claim souls. Usually, the bargain made is for the duration of the mortal's life but some powers make other offers and charge other fees. For example; this being, the Yono, usually offers to destroy enemies or things for the mortal, but the contract is finished once the mortal is defeated."

"This is known to us," Sensei pointed out.

"Ah, but know that the Yono is bound by certain rules," Lishi nodded, not taking offense at Sensei's mild impatience. "Once he is summoned, he must strike a bargain with whomever summons him and he can only act at the direction of the summoner. Once the summoner is defeated, he must leave. However, the soul he takes is completely his, it becomes an extension of his own will. In a way, it is him."

"But the physical remains of the soul he takes," Sensei asked. "What becomes of that?"

"It vanishes," Lishi told him. "It becomes no more, which is fortunate, since as it is a part of the Yono, so to speak, it would give him a toehold in reality."

"But, Fiske's statue is here," Sensei protested.

"Which troubles me," Lishi answered. "I heard the story; how Dr. Hall made a deal in which she prepared a primate body in return for Fiske's statue. I strongly suspect that Fiske's soul is still in the Yono's hell, while his remains are now here. The presence of Fiske's statue may very well give the Yono both a toehold in the mortal realm, as well as a bridge from his hell, outside the purview of binding of his usual rules of summoning."

"So you believe that the Yono's plan may be to walk the Earth with no constraints upon him?" Sensei struggled to keep the alarm from his voice and expressions.

"It would be logical," the Chinese scholar agreed. "With Fiske's body here and his soul in Yono's hell, there may be a method available for the Yono to occupy the body Dr. Hall created for him. Since he paid for it, it is his body, after all."

"So, should we destroy Fiske's statue?" Sensei asked, noting that Master Shinpi, Yamanouchi's master of Mysteries, was looking uncomfortable.

"If your intent is to keep the Yono away from this reality, I would advise not to," Lishi contradicted the ninja, although his tone was very polite. "I do not believe that Fiske's remains must remain intact to fulfill the Yono's purpose. Rather, I believe that the body that Dr. Hall created should be destroyed, giving the Yono no vessel to inhabit."

"I humbly thank you for your counsel," Sensei bowed to the older man. "And I will shortly be available for more discussions. However, I must now meet with other advisers and we wish to keep our secrets. In a small effort to make up for my lack of manners, I will give you free reign of our archives for such time that you remain with us."

"There is no discourtesy," Lishi insisted, struggling to his feet. Master Rekishi was quickly there to assist the older man. "And I understand that the young man who welcomed me here will need to remain with you. If you could arrange for someone to show me to the archives, I will be most content."

"My gratitude," Sensei answered, simply, and motioned for Master Rekishi to do so. Soon, a reasonably senior student, who was well acquainted with the archives, had been procured to guide the old man to the library and to see to his desires. With the guest taken care of, even if the manner displayed less than the etiquette that Sensei would have liked, the Yamanouchi were able to return to the matter at hand.

"Master Shinpi," Sensei began. "You seemed most disturbed by our guest's report. Could you share this disquiet with us?"

"Of course," the relatively young scholar nodded. "Master Sensei, I took the liberty of speaking to Master Jinmon about what he learned from interrogating the Yakuza strongman. What he learned seems to confirm Master Lishi's suspicions."

"Master Jinmon?" Sensei prompted Yamanouchi's head of interrogation.

"I personally interrogated Tsuyoi, using multiple means," the head of interrogation was more blunt than polite, as was required of his duties. "Three months after the Yono claimed Fiske, he was merely a low-ranking thug. He started to have explicit dreams of a spirit willing to trade strength for service. Prompted by his dreams, Tsuyoi traveled to Simian Canyon and meditated, where he was able to finalize the agreement. The Yono granted the Yakuza unearthly physical strength and stamina, in return for the mortal encouraging others to make such a bargain, as well as arranging for services at various locations. One of the last services he provided to the Yono was to arrange for a truck, with all permits needed, to travel from the China/Laotian border to Xi'an."

"And how is this significant?" Sensei asked.

"The records we have are not exact," Shinpi answered. "But in the past, there seems to have been some confrontation between the Yono and the first emperor of China, Qin Shi Huang. It was after this confrontation that the Yono's influence in the world reduced. As the emperor is currently entombed in a vast mausoleum complex in Xi'an, and Dr. Hall's creature was transported from Bangkok, through Laos and to China, it is very likely that the creature is being taken to Xi'an."

"My duties have not allowed me to concentrate upon the mysteries," Sensei pointed out. "Please inform me of the implications this action has brought up."

"Xi'an was most likely where the Emperor defeated the Yono," Shinpi pointed out. "In order to cast a creature such as the Yono out of the world of men, a seal is usually created and the very location remains a weak point, where the boundary between the Yono's hell and our Earth is thin. It is very likely that the Yono's Earthly minions seek to take the body to this weak point, where it can absorb more of the Yono's power."

"And if this seal is destroyed?" Another master asked.

"Then, the Yono's Earthly body will be imbued with the full might of the Yono," Shinpi flinched as he reported. "But this is all conjecture!"

"Yet we must take action," Sensei declared. "What are our chances of locating this body?"

"Very low," Master Tsukiakari admitted. "Should we conduct overt investigations in a region as culturally sensitive as Xi'an, we will be noticed and countered. The Chinese are not fond of Japanese interests poking about their ancient heritage."

"There may be another way," Master Shinpi murmured. "We know the rites and ceremonies needed to return Fiske to flesh."

"Madness!" Sensei snapped at him.

"Is it?" Master Rekishi asked. "If Master Lishi is correct, Fiske's statue represents a bridge between hell and Earth. What Master Jinmon discovered seems to confirm this. The bridge already exists, so what if we bring Fiske completely to Earth? Perhaps this will sever the bridge."

"And perhaps Fiske has gained more knowledge of the Yono during his time in the underworld," Master Shinpi added.

"And what if recovering Fiske sunders the barrier between Earth and hell entirely?" Sensei demanded.

"Then, that breach will happen at a time and place of our choosing," Master Jinmon noted. "Should the Yono manage to sunder the barrier somewhere in China, at a time of his choosing, we will find ourselves incapable of intervening."

Sensei noted that while the interrogator wasn't versed in the mysteries, he had a firm grasp of the tactical situation. Sometimes, being the master of a ninja school and operation required quick decisions to be made and he realized that time could be running out even as he contemplated. Taking a shuddering breath, the old man came to a decision that he was sure would have dire consequences.

* * *

More spots, with the Yono speaking to him the entire time. Strangely, the Yono seemed to almost relish speaking about his defeats; those times that a mortal, with the assistance of another supernatural entity, had diminished his influence in the mortal world. Of course, the Yono's enjoyment might have come from the fact that he casually inflicted excruciating pain upon his possession whenever he described such defeats. Still, knowledge was knowledge and what was pain to a soul in hell?

Fiske had learned early, the hard way, that the Yono speaking to him did not provide him with an excuse to pause in his labors. He also learned that the Yono's presence did not shelter him from the abuse that the ever-present monkeys subjected him to; in fact, the creatures swarmed to bask in the devil's presence, and showed their devotion by abusing the nearest target. Determined to learn, Fiske swallowed his ire, continued his work and asked polite questions.

It was while he was blocking a river, in order to create a swamp, that he learned about one of the Yono's defeats in Africa. It was while he was hollowing out a mountain that he learned about another defeat in Central America. While building a statue inside the freshly hollow mountain, he learned about a defeat in Asia. He began to put the pieces together, he struggled to see the whole tapestry from the bits and pieces that the Yono provided.

During the next labor, disassembling the statue and reassembling it, oriented four degrees off from its previous alignment, the Yono asked questions of him.

"Tell me Fiske, why do you wish to learn?" The small, but unbelievably powerful primate, asked.

"Master, I wish to improve my position," Fiske admitted, while helping other workers to lever a large block of stone from the statue.

"Yet you know that your position only improves with the marks I place on your body, through the labors you perform," Yono pointed out. "Speak truthfully."

"I wish to break out of this cycle, master," Fiske confessed.

"Ah, I should have told you to speak the entire truth," Yono chuckled, while causing a searing burn to run down one of Fiske's legs. "You wish to escape this fate, do you not?"

"I do," Fiske admitted.

"Understand this, Fiske," the Yono somehow managed to snarl and chuckle at the same time. "You can not escape me; your body here is more mine than it is yours. With but a thought, I can bring you back to me and change you to whatever I decide. Your only hope is to defeat me. Is that your wish?"

"If necessary, master," Fiske admitted.

"Ah, you've learned that lying does you no good. Set down your labors for a moment and come with me."

Fiske scrambled from the statue and followed his master as the Yono floated out of the mountain. Once above ground level and in the thick foliage that surrounded the hill, Yono's hand flashed out, snagging something from midair.

"A simple, biting fly," the demon monkey announced. He then concentrated upon the insect. "I have explained you to it, to the point that its simple mind can comprehend. Oh, that reminds me..."

Yono's eyes squinted ever so slightly at Fiske, and suddenly, the former British Nobleman felt as he hadn't since arriving in the Yono's hell.

"I have restored your body to what it was when you were a mortal on Earth," Yono explained. "Now, you can be killed and I have instructed this fly to kill you. Defend yourself."

With that, Yono opened its hand. A large fly flew from his palm and towards Fiske. Monty found that he could not move. The fly landed upon his face and crawled into one of his restored nostrils. A moment later, even as he could feel the insect crawling deeper into his sinuses, Fiske regained the ability to move. Making the most of it, he pinched off one nostril and blew as hard as he could, forcing the fly out of his sinuses. The bug landed, stunned on the ground and Fiske quickly stepped on it.

"Perhaps you now understand," the Yono noted.

"I fear I do not...master," Fiske admitted. He flinched as he once again felt most of his internal organs removed.

"You are the fly," Yono explained. "No matter how hard you try, you cannot fully comprehend me; no mortal can. Even if you had the knowledge needed to kill me, you would be unable to do so. For this reason, I let you learn as much as you can, for it amuses me to see you build yourself up, to actually think that you may someday throw me down. I am so far beyond you that you are incapable of grasping how hopeless your situation is."

Fiske didn't have an answer to that.

"Back to work, my plaything, but I have something to show you." Yono grinned again and an image appeared in front of Fiske.

He recognized his image in stone and after a moment, realized that the expression of horror on his face must have been the image he gave the world when he realized that the infernal infant had bested him. However, this image wasn't in Yamanouchi, where he had been defeated. Rather, it appeared to be in some sort of laboratory.

"Hello snookums," an overly friendly, and painfully familiar, voice called. With an increasing feeling of horror, Fiske watched DNAmy approach the stone figure. "Have you had a rough day, watching me work? I know it must be boring but please be patient, I'm trying to get you back so we can be together."

With strength that bellied her size, the geneticist picked up the statue and carried it into what appeared to be a bedroom. Once there, she pulled a set of modified, silk pajamas out of a drawer and dressed the statue with them, all the while crooning on about how hard she was working to help him. She tucked the statue into the large bed, then vanished into what Fiske assumed to be a bathroom. Shortly after that, she emerged, clad in matching silk pajamas, and snuggled into bed next to...him.

"That is the loyalty you earned while on Earth," the Yono chortled, dispelling the image.

"This is an outrage!" Fiske shrieked, actually getting a minor reaction from the workers in the area.

"It is amusing," Yono corrected him, while applying more pain.

"But...how long has this been going on...master?" Fiske gasped, remembering at the last minute that he didn't dare forget that he was the subordinate.

"Time on Earth means nothing here," Yono sneered. "You have seen new souls, from millennia before your life, appear. You arrived here to find that souls from after your time had already arrived. I have just told you that you cannot comprehend me. Have you learned nothing?"

Fiske didn't have an answer, he merely went back to his labor. However, he was more determined than ever to have his revenge against those who had driven him to wind up here...and there.

"Before you ask," Yono sneered at him. "There is a possibility that she will succeed."

Fiske couldn't help but look at his master in astonishment.

"Your soul is here," Yono taunted him. "But that stone statue is your body. There are rituals and spells on Earth that could return your body and if that were to happen, your soul will be plucked away from my realm and return to your body."

"And I suppose it will amuse you to watch Amy attempt this, and tell me of her bumbling efforts, master?"

"It would," Yono roared with laughter. "But to be honest with you, I don't know what she's doing when she's away from your remains! You see, Fiske, I am not omniscient; I can only observe the mortal realm through certain windows into that reality. One of those windows is your body, since it rightfully belongs to me. She could be on the verge of learning a method to recover you, or she could be on the verge of a mistake that will destroy you, I have no way of knowing! If she were to succeed, you will return to Earth, where you will bear my mark and continue to be my creature. If she were to destroy your remains, the last possibility of your redemption will be gone and I'll still have your soul here!"

"And if she continues to investigate, with no results, for decades, master?" Fiske dared to ask.

"Who's to say that she hasn't already?" Yono laughed. "Who's to say that what you've seen has not yet come to pass? If she manages neither outcome, things here don't change. No matter what happens, my will is done."

The Yono vanished, leaving Fiske to continue his work. Only now, there was something new to his torment. Yono would occasionally visit him, as he moved from labor to labor, and not only divulge details of the demon's past, but disjointed images of what was happening to the former nobleman's body.

He knew that at some point, "he" was in Amy's possession, in some sort of an underground laboratory. He knew that at some point, he was in his mansion's great hall, looked after by Bates and what remained of his monkey minions. He knew that at some point, he was in a Yamanouchi training room, overlooking students of various skill levels drill. However, he had no way of knowing in which order he had occupied each location: Had he been recovered by Amy, only to later wind up in Yamanouchi and then in his mansion? Had Bates gotten his hands on him, only to loose him to Yamanouchi and then to Amy? Had the changes of location been done via subterfuge, force or agreement? At one point, while "he" stood in his mansion, he was visited by the pretender and the cheerleader. This gave him a surge of hope, even as it caused his anger to surge.

During his last minutes as a mortal man, Kim Possible, as well as Sensei and the infernal rat, had been turned to stone. Clearly, the cheerleader had been returned to flesh and if it worked for her, it could work for him! However, of all of the others he saw interacting with what was left of him, only Amy seemed to try to return him!

He hated them all! He hated Bates, the unworthy pretender, the cheerleader and the relic! He hated the lithe ninja who occasionally cleaned his form at Yamanouchi, while talking about her petty irritations. Even as this anger fueled him, drove him to find some way to have his revenge against them all, it seemed to amuse the Yono. Strangely, the Yono seemed to approve of his attitude, even foregoing...at times...to inflict punishment when his ire caused him to forget to show proper subservience.

His spots had covered one arm, and were now colonizing his other arm, when the Yono had him pulled from a cramped tunnel he was carving under a mountain.

"An interesting development for you," the demon told him. "It seems you will serve me in a different way. However, I am not without mercy, so I will give you one, final piece of lore: When you took my mark, as a mortal man, you willingly became my creature. As long as you bear that mark, you are mine. Furthermore, I am the only one who can now remove that mark. You could cut off your hand and it will only appear somewhere else on your body, indicating that my ownership has not been surrendered."

Fiske merely stood, waiting for his master to tell him the significance of this...but then there was nothing.

There was neither light nor dark, there was neither noise or silence. There was just...nothing.

* * *

 _A/N: As always, thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading._


	5. Chapter 5

Pain! Painful heat!

How long had it been since the Yono smirked at him and told him of an interesting development? Had it been moments, days, centuries? In this realm of nothing, time meant both nothing and everything. What was happening to him?

Greater pain, greater heat and now the sound of sizzling.

Sensations; sensations both blessed and cursed! When you spend time with no sensation at all, any sensation is welcome...even pain, perhaps even the sound of your own flesh burning.

Light.

Light? Could his eyes actually detect light? Would he be able to discern shapes before this damnably glorious heat destroyed his eyes? Why was he worried about his eyes; he was a soul in hell, wasn't he?

The pain was greater now, prompting a scream.

Was that a scream he heard? He could now feel his lungs forcing air from his body. He could feel his vocal cords shaping the moving air into that wordless, yet worldwide indication of agony.

Now he could definitely see light and now the pain he felt wasn't confined to scorching heat, it was also an all-over agony, as if a million pinpricks in his limbs had combined to bring him intense torment. He attempted to scream again, but sucked only water into his lungs. He chocked on the water...did he actually need air now?

He tried to struggle to the surface, but he had no real sense of up and his limbs, extensions of agony, refused to obey his commands. More water poured into his lungs. His eyes could now see that he faced a wall of concrete. Was this significant? During his time as an archaeologist, he had learned of all manner of demons, gods, and other powers that ancients had worshiped. Had the Yono traded him to some power that delighted in drowning souls? Was this the interesting development, to be perpetually drowned but not have the release of death to end his suffering?

A strong hand seized his hair and yanked him upward...at least he thought it was upward. His face was now above water and he could see surrounding stone walls.

" _Keep only his head above the water_ ," a voice commanded. " _Pour more over his head_."

Now he could breathe, if only shallowly. Now he was aware of his heart pounding in his chest. How long had it been since he needed to breathe...how long had it been since he had a heart? His body... _HIS_ body gave him a sense of passing time, even through the burning agony that infused him. Even his head felt on fire, but water poured over him and the heat subsided somewhat. Twelve shallow breaths and the heat lessened to a tolerable level.

" _Pull him out_ ," the voice commanded again. " _Purge the water from him_."

With the heat subsiding, Fiske became aware that he was soaking in ice water. Strong arms lifted him out of the chilling bath and then, his newly-rediscovered senses reeling, he was hoisted upside down. He tried to protest, but a large gout of water poured out of his lungs. He had a moment's panic of being unable to breathe then, his lungs free of liquid, he could breathe deeply.

He could barely move his limbs, so he was unable to struggle, even if he knew if he should or not, when the strong arms that held him moved him again. He had regained enough sensation to realize that he was now being suspended upright and being dried with rough towels. Then he was laid on soft cloth, which rested on unyielding, but smooth, stone. More cloth covered him. While the burning pain was now gone, he remained in agony but he was able to recognize that a spot on his left arm felt strangely cold and hot at the same time. Summoning his will, he forced his eyes open.

A piece of metal, perhaps half the size of his palm, was lashed to his left arm. Strong hands loosened the bindings, then slid the metal up to his bicep. There, the hands bound it securely in place. Fighting the pain and lethargy, Fiske turned his head and looked up to see a small, yet ancient man standing over him.

"Master Sensei?" he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Welcome back to Yamanouchi, Fiske," the old man inclined his head slightly. "I doubt that your stay will be enjoyable, but let us hope that the risks we have taken to revive you prove worthwhile." Fiske's eyes were able to focus enough that he could see not only disquiet, but trepidation behind the old man's facial hair.

"H-h-how long..." Fiske struggled to ask.

"How long have you been gone from the Earth?" Sensei asked him. Fiske struggled to nod. "Somewhat over two years have passed since you sank into the Earth. During that time, many events have taken place and it was not benignity that prompted you to be brought back. Yet, you are weary and injured. Rest and recover as best you can; tomorrow's demands upon you will be greater."

He was lifted again, and set upon a litter. He savored the rocking motion he felt, after having been denied any feelings, which indicated that he was being moved. His eyes struggled to bring hazy images into focus and he was soon able to recognize that, true to what Sensei had said, he was on the Yamanouchi grounds. Although he wasn't familiar with where he was being taken, his long-absent nose detected the scent of medicinal herbs and antiseptics, indicating that he was approaching some sort of medical facility. If he hadn't been so exhausted, he would have snorted in amusement.

The outside of the building was stone and wood, built in the Yamanouchi combination of bygone Japanese and Chinese architecture. Inside, paper lanterns illuminated traditional patient beds; bamboo devices that elevated the occupant more for the healer's convenience than the patient's comfort. However, beyond the patient beds, he was carried to an exam room that supported lighting and diagnostic equipment that would have looked typical of any top-notch trauma center.

Fiske remembered a cartoon he had seen in his youth; which showed a groundhog emerging from its burrow to look for its shadow. The narrator had wondered how the groundhog was able to forecast the weather so accurately, only for the viewpoint to follow the creature back into its burrow, revealing an impressive computer system, which generated weather radar and satellite images.

He was shifted off of the litter and onto the bed, where another Yamanouchi member, clad in a surgeon's mask, gloves and scrubs, went about his business. Fiske was prodded and poked; he was examined under a bright light and subjected to x-rays and other diagnostics that he couldn't identify. Blood was taken and hauled off to what he was sure was a state-of-the art laboratory. Finally, he was lifted back onto the litter and taken back to the more traditionally furnished patient area.

He was moved again, this time to one of the beds. The two, burly young men who had borne him bowed to the doctor and removed the litter. Fiske looked around and saw that he was the only patient in the facility. Idly, but with a tremendous force of will, he managed to lift his right hand to prod at the metal lashed to his left bicep.

"Not a good idea," the man, whom Fiske had identified as a doctor of sorts, informed him. Another hand, smaller but still strong, moved his wandering appendage from the metal. "You are still the Yono's creature," the doctor explained. "As best we can determine, this charm will keep him from claiming you."

Fiske snorted in derision, then thought more deeply. Could the Yono be denied, even temporarily? He had no idea how long he had been in the Yono's hell, but the demon undoubtedly didn't tell him everything. Curious, he managed to raise his left hand enough to look at it. The Yono's mark remained, and it seemed to glow just a bit. Now that the thought of it, he could feel a slight, tingling sensation, almost an itch, that extended from the hand most of the way up his arm.

To the point that the charm was contacting his skin.

"Here, drink this," the doctor ordered, then held a bowl to his mouth. The contents tasted medicinal and Fiske was in no way ready to resist. After he finished, another bowl was presented to him. This one tasted more hearty, like some form of broth. He was surprised at how hungry he was and then wondered how long it had been since he had eaten. He struggled with his memory, as it seemed that lifetimes had passed since he was last a mortal. Had it been mid-morning or afternoon when he had unearthed the Yono? Had he eaten that morning, or even the night previously? When he was on an expedition, he often forgot to eat unless Bates or his monkeys reminded him.

"You are not prepared to answer questions at this time," the doctor informed him, once he finished the second bowl. "Rest now, and I shall determine your condition when you awaken.

Fiske was still in pain, but it had lessened. Did the obviously medicinal concoction contain the painkiller, or had the hearty broth? He had no way of knowing and he didn't care. Somehow, the dull ache was comforting, the exhaustion was liberating. He had escaped! He was out of the Yono's hell, but he couldn't help but wonder if this was what the demon monkey had intended all along.

He did not know how long he slept; he could only savor the unfamiliar feeling of waking up. He also felt the unfamiliar sensation of hunger and...other needs. Fortunately, another attendant spotted him awakening and he was sufficiently recovered to get into another room...with help. Food waited him when he returned to his bed, more solid fare than last night. While time was meaningless in the Yono's hell, how long had it been since he had experienced the simple joy of eating? His resentment towards his current captors grew with every bite. By the time he was finished, he was seething.

"Enough!" He roared at the empty room. "It is well past the time that I learned why you returned me to flesh! Bring your relic of a sensei to me so that he can answer my questions!"

"The relic is already here."

Fiske spun his head, an action that caused him great pain, so see the ancient man standing in what was an empty room just moments before.

"You have questions, Fiske, and so do I," Sensei informed his reluctant guest. "Yet, as much as I would prefer that you were not here, you are a guest in my home. Therefore, I will allow you the first question."

"Why have you brought me back?"

"Because we believe the Yono was using your condition to his advantage," Sensei answered. "Your soul was in his hell and your remains were in the realms of men. We had certain other intelligence that confirmed this, so we sought to take this asset, if you will, from the Yono."

"And why did you take so long to do so?" Fiske demanded.

"That is two questions," Sensei pointed out. "So it is customary that I have the opportunity to ask you one."

"I have a great deal of information," Fiske sneered. "Lore learned from the Yono himself, in his own hell. Should I choose to do so, I will be able to keep your scribes busy for months recording what I say and your scholars busy for centuries interpreting it. My decision to speak will be heavily influenced by my treatment."

"Then perhaps some more information, which may not have occurred to you to request, will be to your benefit." Sensei told him. "While you were stone, deals were made between the British Government and Yamanouchi. Because of these agreements, officials in your home country are now aware of certain activities that you managed to keep relatively secret. You were already acting in a gray area of the law, so a few words from me will leave you in a Japanese prison, to be transferred to a British facility when you are extradited."

"You threaten me with prison?" Fiske sneered at him. "I was in hell! Do you think that mortal suffering can intimidate me?"

"You are still the Yono's creature," Sensei sighed. "And perhaps you know better, but my loremasters believe that the charm you wear is all that prevents you from being subject to his will. Do you wish to take this risk?"

Fiske flinched.

"Very well," Sensei's tone was now all business. "We both have something the other wants, so threatening each other accomplishes nothing. I am interested in your lore, which might help me counter the Yono's plans. I would suspect that you would also want to inhibit his plans. In return, I can give you shelter from both the Yono and from the authorities."

"In which case, can you explain to me why you waited two years to recover me?" Fiske growled at the man. "Clearly you have been flesh long enough to recover and I saw a...vision...of the cheerleader standing in front of my stone form. Why wasn't I recovered prior to this?"

"Let me be honest with you," Sensei told him, after a moment's hesitation. "I do not like you. You subverted a promising student in Fukishima, you kidnapped another star pupil and forced the rest into an all-out battle with your monkeys. You unleashed the power of the Yono on my very school. If other events hadn't intervened, you would have been left here at Yamanouchi until any who remembered you had passed away, then you would have been hidden away and forgotten. However, what has happened has happened. To answer your question, no effort was needed to recover myself, Miss Possible, or the rat. As the Yono had no claim upon any of us, when you were defeated and the Yono banished, we simply returned to flesh."

"I assume that Amy had something to do with my stone form becoming available to you."

"You assume correctly," Sensei continued to fix his guest with a stern eye. "She took advantage of the Lowardian Invasion to access Simian Canyon and strike a bargain with the Yono. I will not bore you with what we have learned about this bargain, such discussions shall take place with my full staff."

"Lowardian Invasion?" Fiske asked, showing just a touch of curiosity. "Was Japan attacked?"

"The entire Earth was attacked," Sensei paused, clearly wondering what to reveal. "A former associate of yours, Mr. Drew Lipsky, used one of his inventions to defeat the invaders."

"Drakken?" Now Fiske looked incredulous. "That crackpot actually accomplished something?"

"He had the assistance of the glowing woman, Shego, as well as Miss Possible and Young Stoppable."

"The cheerleader and the pretender," Fiske grumbled.

"Needless to say, there was great confusion throughout the world."

"I can imagine," Fiske agreed. "But back to the topic at hand."

Again, Sensei looked at him, somewhat disapprovingly. "We at Yamanouchi were too busy with...other issues...in the wake of the Lowardian Invasion to pay sufficient attention to various gossip media, so we did not note that Dr. Hall was seen with your stone form. Young Stoppable and Possible, Lipsky and Shego, as well as many of your old associates, noted this but did not know the significance. Your manservant, Mr. Bates, noted this when he was assigned to care for your estate. He tracked you down and staged a raid, utilizing such of your monkeys that remained, to recover you."

Suddenly, the old man smiled so widely that his grin showed from behind his facial hair. "He used some unscrupulous artists to pass you off as a piece of artwork, purchased by and for the Fiske Estate. In a way, you purchased yourself."

"Now that you've had your joke at my expense, what happened to me next?" Fiske demanded.

"You are not a lord here," Sensei's voice went from amused to harsh in a moment. "You have no dominion over me or mine! Yet, I forgive your attitude and your arrogance...for now. Bates seized the records that Dr. Hall had created in her research to return you to flesh. Once he had you safely in your own mansion, under his control, he invited Dr. Hall to relocate to your home and continue her efforts. He then made use of your contacts in the less-than-honorable antiquities trade to obtain various information and materials needed to perform the transformation. Miss Possible's technical support assistant, as well as Yamanouchi, detected these efforts to obtain exotic items."

"So Bates' idiocy placed me in your hands," Fiske concluded.

"Or his loyalty," Sensei sighed. "He was out of his depth and doing his best for you. I sent a representative to your mansion at the same time Possible and Stoppable investigated. My representative teamed up with the young Americans, let a representative of the British Crown know what they were doing, and uncovered your servant's efforts. An agreement was reached by which you were brought here, out of the reach of Dr. Hall and your servants. Recently, we uncovered lore that the Yono's plan may be to utilize the existing situation, so we returned you to flesh."

"So why am I in such agony?" Fiske moaned. "Why did you nearly drown me and incinerate me when you brought me back?"

"There is a saying that any technology sufficiently advanced will appear as magic to those who don't understand it. The technology to turn flesh into stone, and back again, is one that we do not grasp completely. Silicon is a more complex atom than carbon, so when a significant mass of silicon, such as the volume of an arrogant British Lord, is converted to carbon, a great deal of energy is released. The spells we utilized were only able to contain most of it."

"I assume that explains the heat I felt, and why you revived me in a pool of water," Fiske nodded. "But the pain in my limbs?"

"While you were yet stone, we used a laser to drill microscopic holes through your limbs," Sensei explained. "So that the ice water could penetrate and absorb more of the released energy, by converting water to steam. We did not dare do this with your body core, as we did not know how much damage we would do to your internal organs. We devoted our greatest magical efforts to diverting these energies from your head and core. As it was, the burst of subatomic particles did great damage to the concrete and stone walls we built around your recovery site. We were forced to wait until no aircraft were overhead, out of fear of what this energy burst could do. The world's great powers are even now trying to come to grips with what their satellites recorded. "

"I find myself with very little sympathy," Fiske growled. "Being perforated seems to have dampened my empathy."

"It could have been much worse," Sensei informed him. "Many involved in your recovery suggested removing certain...offensive...body parts before returning you to flesh. This would have actually made the procedure easier, as every gram of mass removed meant less energy released. One of the more imaginative suggested that we remove about twenty percent of your mass and utilize it as a power source. It actually had profitable possibilities."

"I have had enough of your ill-advised humor!" Fiske snarled at the older man. "As you have already had your entertainment at my expense, perhaps you can tell me when I will be released from your archaic institution. I want proper medical care from a proper hospital and I want my minions around me to keep me from harm."

"And I have had my fill of your demands and your arrogance," Sensei's voice was calm, which made the threat all the more believable. "You will leave when I consider you fit to leave," Sensei's voice was now firm. "And it involves far more than your physical well-being. You will prove that you are no danger to others before I allow you to leave this institution."

"What is the meaning of this?" Fiske demanded.

"I mean to say that I went through the effort to bring you back to fulfill a mutually beneficial purpose," Sensei informed the man. "But once this purpose is fulfilled, I have no intention of turning you loose upon the world again. Honor prevents me from slaying you, once you are of no further use to me. I also have no intention of keeping you imprisoned, with no hope of release, for the rest of your life. Instead, you will remain at Yamanouchi, learning honor and humility, until such time that I deem you no longer a danger to the world."

"That's insane!" Fiske roared, although the fact that he was barely able to walk removed much of the implied threat. "You have no right to keep me here!"

"And you had no right to steal scrolls from this very institution," Sensei countered. "You had no right to attempt to slay young Stoppable, nor to force young Possible and one of my students into a volcano. You had no right to unleash the Yono. Do not speak to me of rights, Fiske."

"I am a British Lord," the patient reminded his jailer.

"Who has been officially declared dead," Sensei countered. "Your heir has already been declared and is being groomed to fulfill the role of Lord Fiske, even as we speak."

"I cannot be replaced like that!"

"YOU HAVE!" Sensei silenced the arrogant man with simple logic and impressive volume. "Your Queen has the power to appoint another to your estates and your long absence has given her sufficient reason. If you set aside your arrogance and insane thirst for power that you are unworthy to wield, you will be able to leave here and influence your heir. If you rehabilitate quickly enough, you may be able to sire your own heir...it matters little to me."

Although Master Sensei wasn't a tall man, his regal bearing gave him the ability to be intimidating when he drew himself up to his full height. He used this ability, aided by the fact that Fiske was still laying down, to glare balefully down at the disinherited nobleman.

"You may well spend the rest of your days here, Fiske." The old man snarled at the wounded Englishman. "Or you can earn your way free; it is up to you. By the memory of Toshimiru himself, I swear to make every effort to rehabilitate you and to judge you fairly. If you fail to earn your freedom, it will be my own failure as well. I do not intend to fail, Fiske, but should I do so, I will not allow the rest of the world to suffer by allowing you free reign to harm others in your self-serving quest for power. Prepare yourself, your first meeting with my loremasters takes place in two hours."

Sensei turned and struggled to keep his sense of calm as he passed from the infirmary. It would not do to have students see him angry, much less assume that they had done something to offend him...at least when they hadn't done so. Despite his best efforts, he was probably a little more curt than normal when he informed his assistant that he required privacy to communicate with an ally. If the young man was chagrined, he didn't show it; he quickly shut the doors to the study and activated the fountains within. Satisfied, Sensei activated his computer. Belying his age and traditional attire, Sensei was actually quite capable on the keyboard.

He was somewhat shocked to find that Dr. Director was available for an immediate consultation. While he had dedicated himself to his duties to the point that he no longer had a life outside of his title, he wished that one as young as the head of Global Justice would still have a personal life. Such idle musings were cut short when the one-eyed woman, wearing a crisp uniform and with not so much as a hair out of place, appeared on his screen.

"Master Sensei," the woman's tone and expression gave one the impression that this was a scheduled meeting.

"Doctor Director," Sensei inclined his head, politely. "My gratitude for accepting this call on such short notice."

"Of course," she returned the head-bob. "May I assume that you have news of some importance?"

"Perhaps. I have seen fit to return Fiske to flesh." Gratified somewhat that he prompted a brief expression of shock on his ally's face, he explained the reasoning and some of the methods used.

"This explains the reactions from the Chinese, Russian and North American military forces," Dr. Director noted, her expression once again one of professional calm.

"I have informants in those governments," Sensei admitted. "But not high enough to tell me, with any level of certainty, how dire the reactions were. If you will indulge an old man's curiosity, how alarmed were those forces?"

"Atomic forces in all three nations went on alert," Director fixed him with a stern stare. Sensei found himself in the unfamiliar role of squirming under it. "All three nations' spy satellites detected the energy release and classified it as a possible launch signature. All were confused when they isolated it to Japan, then were relieved when it was only one and they were unable to detect additional bursts or objects in flight. Everyone is confused and curious, but they've all stood down."

"That is good to hear." Sensei was shocked again, to hear the timidity in his own voice.

"Master Sensei," Dr. Director spoke with forced calm. "May I suggest that in the future, you make use of your alliance with my organization? I have certain inroads to these governments, so I could have given a vague warning and prevented them from being caught off guard. This might prevent certain, minor inconveniences, such as a nuclear exchange, the next time you perform such an action."

"Of course," Sensei was now getting control of himself again. "If I may be so bold, is it your intention to inform Miss Possible? As you are much closer to the young people, perhaps you could inform Young Stoppable at the same time."

"I don't think that's a good idea," the woman told him. "Mr. Stoppable has recently started to experience symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder; and Miss Possible has begun to re-experience them. Global Justice counselors are working with both at the moment but since events revolving around Mr. Fiske, Yamanouchi and the Mystical Monkey Power are central to their issues, I'd like to keep this information from them."

"Very well," Sensei nodded. "Fiske will not leave this facility, on that you have my word."

"And I'll put out some feelers in China," Dr. Director added. "We deal with the mundane, not the spiritual, but we might be able to help track the smugglers. You can't fight crime while only dealing with the law-abiding, so we have some contacts and sources in the criminal underworld. While our network might not be as extensive as yours, it may work as a solid enhancement."

"Any assistance will be appreciated," Sensei nodded. "Now, since I have no more revelations to make, I must let you go. I seek to exploit Fiske's presence here to gain more knowledge."

"Please share anything you learn," Director said, by way of farewell.

"Of course," he nodded, then logged off.

Having regained some of his composure, the old man glided to the appropriate hall with his usual air of dignified serenity. As was his custom, he did not enter the meeting room via the main door, but used a back door, so that he could listen for a few moments to the gossip of the loremasters and others who awaited his arrival. While Masters Shinpi and Rekishi were old men, and possessed of the dignity that old men and Japanese typically displayed, they were also possessed of the subtle arrogance that both demographic groups held for those they considered dishonorable. Both old men were attempting to bait Fiske with false and faint praise. Yet it sounded like they were the only two; Master Lishi held his peace, although Sensei didn't know if it was because of manners or the fact that as a foreigner, he was unsure if his scorn would be tolerated. The younger Yamanouchi in attendance also held their tongues.

"My apologies," Sensei announced before he strode into the chamber, his way of giving the chatterboxes a chance to silence themselves without losing face. The assorted Yamanouchi rose to their feet in respect; their speed in doing so reflecting their ages and stations. Master Lishi, as a visiting dignitary, made to rise but Sensei motioned that he would take no offense if he remained seated. Fiske also remained on the ground, though Sensei chose to attribute the lack of action to his wounds rather than to deliberate offense.

"I fear that my duties require my presence at multiple points, even at the expense of such vital discussions." The walked to the head of the table, motioning for the others to take their seats. The assembled masters and scribes did so, but two men remained on their feet.

One of those still afoot was a much younger man, who was attending to three video cameras and a network of microphones. While Sensei appreciated tradition, he appreciated accuracy even more; this meeting would be recorded exactly, should there ever be need to review the proceedings. The second man was Hirotaka, who stood right behind Fiske. The senior student was present, ostensibly, to assist Fiske as the Englishman was both wounded and an outsider who might not know Yamanouchi protocol. Everyone, including Fiske himself, must know the real reason. Fiske was a dangerous combatant who had repeatedly demonstrated both the willingness and ability to resort to violence to both get what he wanted and avoid what he disliked. At the moment, there was little threat; the scribes and elderly masters, even the man running the recording equipment, were all Yamanouchi Ninja and could easily handle the incapacitated Fiske. Yet, Sensei suspected that Fiske would be with them for a long time so it was best to establish the custom of having a capable combatant near him at all times.

As all settled to the floor, Sensei took a moment to consider both the student and the Englishman. Hirotaka was the best of his class, perhaps even the best of his generation. Fiske had been at his most capable and dangerous, shortly before calling the Yono, yet at the time, Sensei deemed that Hirotaka was slightly more capable at direct combat. In the two years that Fiske had been in hell, Hirotaka had continued to improve, although his assignments had prompted learning in areas beyond fighting. Even once Fiske healed, Sensei judged that Hirotaka would retain his modest advantage over the Englishman, but that advantage wasn't overwhelming. To be safe, Sensei would have to make sure that another student would be close to Fiske and Hirotaka, to tip the balance if the need arose. Still, Sensei had few fighters of Hirotaka's ability and did not want to inhibit the student's development by permanently assigning him to watch Fiske.

The Englishman was going to be a thorn in Sensei's side as long as he remained at Yamanouchi...and perhaps even longer.

"Very well," he declared. "I see no need for extended introductions. We all know why we are here. Master Rekishi believes that there was a confrontation between the Yono and the First Emperor of China and that it might prove the core of the events that are now taking place. Fiske, what is your lore on this?"

For a moment, Sensei feared that his unwilling guest might prove unwilling to speak, but that was both an unnecessary concern and a forlorn hope. The arrogant needed little prompting to display their wisdom.

"You are correct, within your limits," Fiske told the older man. "In ancient times, the Yono had influence around the world, with shrines to his might located wherever monkeys lived. During this time, the Yono didn't answer a summons to defeat a foe or destroy something, he offered a fragment of his might to the petitioner in return for a soul. In the past two years, I have had a much longer sojourn through the Yono's hell. The majority of the souls to be found there are from truly ancient times."

"So why do we still not see shrines throughout the world?" Master Rekishi demanded, sounding a bit stung by Fiske's subtle insult.

"Because certain ancient men limited the Yono," Fiske answered. "In Africa, in India, in Central and South America; call them holy men, priests or witch doctors, great men contacted other powers and combated the Yono's influence. One of the last such areas to reject the Yono was Southeastern Asia."

"China, and the First Emperor," Rekishi concluded.

"Exactly," Fiske agreed. "But the works of man are imperfect and thus the binding placed upon the Yono could not be absolute. In the case of the Emperor, he was able to neutralize all of the Yono's shrines within a thousand leagues of the point that he defeated the Yono...save one. He chose to allow this shrine to manifest itself upon an island well away from his realm, but close enough that he could take action should some cult arise."

"The Home Islands," Sensei concluded. "Which had recently been discovered."

"Furthermore, the applicant could not simply walk to the shrine and ask for power," Fiske continued. "The Emperor wanted anyone driven to calling forth the Yono to need to work at it, to give him time to truly debate if the boon he wanted was worth his soul. Furthermore, the Yono would have to answer the applicant personally, to be bound by the agreement until the summoner was defeated. At this point, the Yono would claim the soul and wait for the next summoner."

"I assume the binding had some additional limitations," Sensei prompted.

"Of course!" Fiske sneered at him. "There could be no construction on the site that the shrine occupied, nor could a permanent watch be placed on the site. The would-be summoner must have unimpeded access to the shrine. However, it appears that the Yono has found a loophole. He gloated about it and delighted to show me how she was treating my mortal remains."

"Explain how this loophole affects us," Sensei instructed, his voice cold.

"Amy's request of the Yono was unique," Fiske explained. "She didn't want anything destroyed, she didn't want anyone defeated, she didn't want a people or a region laid to waste; she only wanted me. As I belonged to the Yono, body and soul, he had the ability to give me to her and in so doing, he warped the binding upon him."

The assembled masters shared nervous looks.

"What?" Fiske demanded. "If you tell me what he has done, perhaps I can provide greater insight!"

"I need not tell the children of Yamanouchi to keep this secret," Sensei declared. "Master Lishi, I can only ask that you continue to show the etiquette that you have displayed so far, and keep what is about to be said here your secret."

"Of course," the Chinese scholar assured him.

"Fiske, it appears that the Yono has moved quickly to establish some sort of following," Sensei told the unwilling guest. "We have found some Yakuza who have exhibited much greater physical strength than a mortal man can have. These Yakuza seem to be forging their own territory, even within the domains of existing clans and have reached to China, influencing smugglers."

"This is troubling," Fiske admitted. "I'm sure we all suspect that the Yono's granting Amy's request has given him this ability. However, I have more troubling news. The Yono told me that although he was able to warp the binding due to his deal with Amy, he still couldn't come to the world of men outside of the restrictions placed upon him by the first emperor. However, he claimed to be able to extend a tendril of his power in more than one way. While he claimed that he would destroy some sort of seal that kept him from Asia, I believed that this was only his ravings; as he also said that only the first emperor, who created the seal and himself, who was bound by it, could destroy it." Fiske snorted his derision. "The first emperor is millennia in his grave, so he cannot destroy the seal and a summoner would have to instruct the Yono specifically to destroy the seal, and only that, at the cost of his soul."

A round of uneasy looks answered Fiske's statement. "What is it?" the Englishman demanded.

"The Yono's ability to extend a tendril of his power," Sensei prompted. "Did he detail his abilities?"

"Only that he could grant selected mortals a fragment of his strength," Fiske answered. "And that he could inhabit an empty vessel."

"Therein lies our disquiet," Sensei told him. "In return for you, Amy created a body, which was turned over to Yono cultists."

"Why didn't you tell me this immediately?" Fiske demanded. "I have no love for this institution, but I have no desire to see the Yono wandering free! If the Yono inhabits this creature's body, he will be able to destroy the seal!"

"Perhaps there's an easy solution," Master Jinmon spoke up. "Before, we debated destroying Fiske's statue but chose not to, as the stone could not be completely obliterated. This option is still open to us, but flesh is easier to destroy than stone."

"No matter can be completely destroyed," Master Rekishi corrected the younger man. "Even if we were to kill this fool and incinerate him, his body's carbon would still remain carbon, as would the other elements. Would he be _destroyed_ to the binding's satisfaction? I cannot say."

"Besides, the Yono could already be inhabiting his new body," Master Lishi, pointed out. "Which will make this young man's destruction useless, even if we can do it completely. We would be better off availing ourselves of such wisdom that he has; and is willing to share with us."

"We will not kill our guest," Sensei decided. "No matter how justified and tempting. For now, armed with such lore as he has given us, and which we have already learned, we will continue the search. The Chinese have their own guards upon the first emperor's tomb, and perhaps our invited guest will be so kind, when he returns to his home, to make such suggestions that he can to make the security tighter."

"Of course," Master Lishi offered a polite bow.

"We have our tasks to perform," Sensei declared. "Perhaps time is running short, but perhaps it isn't. It is not yet time to risk the wrath of the Chinese government by taking overt actions at a place so sensitive. This is not to mean that we have abandoned our efforts to thwart the Yono." A rare, cruel smile flickered across his face. "Although I find the idea of the Yono attempting to contend with the entire People's Liberation Army to be somewhat amusing, it would do nobody any good. It is better that we prevent the Yono from achieving significant power, but that we do so in a way that keeps the general populace from knowing of his existence." Another, brief smile. "We are ninja and our first lesson is that the best executed assignment is one that is done in absolute secrecy. Go now, and perform your duties."

The Yamanouchi, with the exception of Hirotaka, rose, offered respectful bows, and left the room.

"Although I do not answer to you, your instructions are most wise," Master Lishi told Sensei. "So, with you leave, I shall make preparations to return to my homeland."

"Of course," Sensei bowed to the older man. "Although you will always be welcome here,"

"As will you, in my home," Lishi assured him. "In addition to suggesting that security be increased around the tomb, I will also work to make it easier for a group of Japanese scholars to come and visit. The time may come when you need to move people to my homeland as quickly as possible."

"You have my deepest gratitude," Sensei said, by way of thanks.

Once the elderly Chinese man had left, Sensei turned to Fiske. The Englishman had remained sitting; an act of defiance and insult. That was fine with Sensei; he had just decided how to handle the arrogant man.

"Come with me," Sensei ordered. While Fiske considered disobedience for a moment, he slowly...much more slowly than his wounds would dictate...got to his feet. He showed no sign of proper manners, so Sensei merely turned and stalked off, drawing the man along through sheer willpower.

"I assume that I'll be working in your archives," Fiske drawled, clearly a man who thought that he was in control. "With proper motivation, I can add a great deal to your knowledge. However, there will be a price."

"We have not yet come to that point," Sensei informed him. Internally, the old man now felt the same serenity that he strove to show the world. "Work in the archives is a privilege that must be earned."

"And now I'm to earn the right to benefit you?" Fiske gave him a look that was equal parts defiant and disbelieving.

"If you wish to continue to receive Yamanouchi's beneficence...yes," now that Sensei had come to a course of action, he was much more relaxed. "You don't know everything about Yamanouchi; and you probably never will. However, there is one piece of information you must know in order to perform your duties."

"My duties!?" Fiske sputtered. "I am not a servant to be ordered..."

For all of his faults, Montgomery Fiske respected a few things. One of these things was training in martial arts, so he silenced his protests when Sensei drew him through an arch and into a courtyard, where young people were performing basic drills.

"Many of our students are born into the life," Sensei informed him, his voice low enough to not disturb the classes being taught. "But not all. We look for other recruits; the orphans who have no family, the young men and women without strong connections to others. We bring these into our school, where we evaluate them. Those who are able to adapt become students."

"And those who cannot adapt?" Fiske whispered back. "Is there a potter's field where the bones of the rejects lie under the Earth?"

"We are not murderers," Sensei corrected him. "Those young people who cannot, or will not, adapt are returned to their old lives. Although they were here for a short time, they are never told exactly where the school is located, and they never hear the word 'Yamanouchi'. We leave them no worse off than they were before."

"But not all those who adapt will be able to become ninja," Fiske pointed out. "And by the time they learn they are unworthy, they will learn too many of your secrets so I ask again, is there a potter's field for them?"

"Those who cannot become ninja are placed throughout the world, in mundane jobs," Sensei told him. "They become our informants, maintain safe houses, and perform a multitude of mundane tasks that allow our proper ninja to perform their duties more efficiently."

"A lovely tale," Fiske's whisper dripped with sarcasm. "But I don't see why it was necessary to show me this."

"Which is why I will now explain," Sensei answered him. "This will be your task. You will be accepted for evaluation. Should you show that you can adapt to the rigors of Yamanouchi, you will be accepted as a student."

"And if I cannot?" Fiske snorted "What will you do, return me to England?"

"No," Sensei's denial wasn't angry, it was a mere statement of fact. "I stated that you will not leave this school while I have doubts about your character...and believe me, you will not. However, I would like to state that while sleep is a human right, the ability to sleep under a roof and blanket is a privilege to be earned. While basic nutrition is a right, eating well is a privilege to be earned. Do I need to explain all of the basic comforts I can deny you, or can you grasp my ability to make your stay here unpleasant?"

"I understand my situation," Fiske grumbled.

"Excellent. I will give you two more days to recover. After this, you will be required to serve Yamanouchi' and you will be evaluated. We will see just how firm of a grip you have upon your situation."

* * *

 _As always, big thanks to Joe Stoppinghem, for beta reading._


	6. Chapter 6

Shadows...slight differences between light and dark...that's all that could be seen. There was also the faintest of sounds to be heard...undoubtedly very loud noises, but he could only perceive dull thumps and occasional noises. Finally, there were the body's other senses; at times he felt that he was being moved, at times he could detect cold or heat. Was this what a newborn mortal went through?

Yono was known as "The Destroyer", not "The Patient", for very good reason. Through the centuries, he had sold violence and destruction to mortals in return for the only thing of value that they held for him. It had been a solid strategy and had given the Yono numerous souls, even while other powers contended with each other for their own ruin. Dogma's came and went, philosophies came into and out of fashion, morality was fluid over the centuries but mankind always wanted to strike down those who would hinder them. Man would always contend with man, so Yono simply tapped into this eternal strife to his benefit. However, his avoidance of challenging other powers had cost him dearly.

When various holy men across the world called upon other powers to limit Yono's own power, he had found himself ill prepared to meet the challenge. As a result, his ability to influence men and claim souls en mass had been taken away from him. There were still a handful of sites across the globe where an individual could make the bargain, but the supply of souls to his domain had dropped to a mere trickle. It galled Yono to think that his greatest days were behind him...until Amy's odd request opened other possibilities.

Many gods and pantheons had risen and fallen since Yono had been active in the world. Yet, the Abrahamic faiths remained. One tendril of his thought had been considering the success of these religions while Amy made her plea. At that time, a method of sidestepping the bindings had occurred to him. He would mimic a core tenant of Christianity, but he would not take mortal form as a helpless infant. No, he would take mortal form as an avatar of Yono the Destroyer!

Of course, this was easier said than done. Occupying a mortal form was neither easy nor quick. While he was infinitely greater than a mortal man, he still had to work within the limitations of the flesh that encased his will. Much as a human infant took time to gain control of its body, it took Yono a great deal of time to fully gain control of the body Amy had made for it. As of now, his eyes still didn't work correctly, his ears could only detect very loud noises and his other senses were muted at best. He had only the most rudimentary control of his limbs.

Fortunately for his sanity, the tendril of him that occupied the body wasn't the only one he had. He still maintained absolute control over his realm and he maintained his watch over the few sites where a mortal could summon him to make a deal. To his great annoyance, he could no longer observe Fiske, ever since the blasted Yamanouchi had placed the charm on his flesh. Even more aggravating was the fact that he could no longer observe the very body he was in the process of occupying. Somehow, his own presence in the body left him incapable of observing...himself. He could only hope that the threats and promises he had made to the various Yakuza would be sufficient to keep him protected, until such time that he was functional enough to crush the seal that bound him.

He was unable to see his unfeeling lips twist into a smile, contemplating what it would be like when he was once again free to walk Eastern Asia.

* * *

"You remain the Yono's creature," Master Rekishi told Fiske. "Yet the charm you wear protects you. We have certain documentation that confirms this."

"Such as?" Fiske sneered.

"Such as these records from the time that the Yono still freely roamed Asia," the elderly man countered, sliding the scrolls to the Englishman with an annoyed look. "If you do not trust my translations and interpretation, you are free to perform such tasks yourself."

"I trust your translations," Fiske told him. "But why do you put such faith in this charm?"

"Because of the evidence in these scrolls!" The scholar snapped, showing anger at his obstinate guest. "This charm is over three thousand years old! A village holy man sought to protect four, foolish young men who had made deals with the Yono; so he crafted four charms. One was made of silver, one of jade, one of bone and one of wood. The young men who wore the jade, bone and wood charms burst into flame and vanished, while the one who wore the silver charm lived a full life. That is proof to me that the silver charm was effective while the other three were not. That silver charm now rests upon your arm."

"So I see that the holy man believed in the scientific method," the Englishman quipped, poking at the aforementioned trinket with something that almost seemed to be respect.

"Very much so," Rekishi sighed. "You insult the ancient man by suggesting he didn't have an organized mind. If you would trouble yourself to actually read these scrolls instead of criticizing the man who wrote them, as well as my interpretation, you would know that the ancient holy man prepared all four charms with in the same manner, with the same inscriptions while intoning the same chants. Only the silver charm protected the bearer."

Suddenly, Fiske's eyes flew wide and he stared at the scholar.

"What is it?" The old Japanese man demanded.

"The Yono's hell had no metal," Fiske told him. "We labored with wood and stone tools."

"This could suggest that the Yono has a weakness to certain metals," Rekishi mused. "Or perhaps to silver. Perhaps only metal can hold the inscriptions or absorb the energy of the chants." The old man jotted some notes on a piece of paper. "I must remember to see if other metals have been mentioned as the medium for wards against the creature."

"It's so heartening to note that my fate is worthy academic curiosity," Fiske grumbled.

"And it is distressing to see that even one who's doom is being delayed by the efforts of Yamanouchi can still be insolent to his hosts," Rekishi snapped in return. "Perhaps we can go back to the questions I was asking you earlier, what sort of flora and fauna were to be found in the Yono's Hell?"

"Typical of a jungle," Fiske shrugged, refusing to use the modern term of 'rain forest'. "But both flora and fauna were a mix of most jungles I have been through. Birds, amphibians, small mammals, even the monkeys; all were a mix of Asian, African and American jungles."

"But the fauna," the old man persisted. "There were no predators large enough to prey upon the monkeys?"

Again, Fiske's eyes flew wide. "That never occurred to me," he admitted. "But you are correct."

"Did you not say earlier that monkeys abused the workers, and that the workers labored to become monkeys?" The old man asked.

"I never saw a worker elevated to becoming a monkey," Fiske admitted. "But that is what the workers who had been there longer than me told me." He paused. "How is this significant?"

"I do not know," Rekishi shrugged. "But each bit of lore is a piece in a puzzle. While the Yono is beyond human comprehension, it may be possible to determine what he attempts to accomplish. We see that the Yono forces the souls who come within his grasp to labor without end, to be punished if they do not work. After laboring, said souls become monkeys, in a paradise without predators, who must abuse and humiliate those lower than them. How this enhances the Yono, I cannot say."

"There is another step," Fiske told him. "There were defenses; large walls that made the Great Wall look small by comparison. I never learned the borders of the Yono's realm, but at one time, I worked on a city in the shadow of such a wall. On the wall, great beasts; like large simians, stood watch. They did not watch the workers, they kept watch facing away from the city."

"What did they guard against?" Rekishi asked.

"I will not say," Fiske told him. "Not until I get what I want."

"Still making demands," Rekishi sighed. "Very well, your interview today is done. You will now assume your duties as a servant of Yamanouchi."

"What?' Fiske demanded. "I have knowledge nobody else has! I spent time in the Yono's hell and I'm willing to bargain! All I ask for is some comforts and liberties in return for priceless knowledge!"

"Yet we are not in the Yono's hell," Rekishi countered. "Nor are any you meet here likely to go there. We at Yamanouchi want the knowledge you have, but we are not willing to pay the price you demand."

"But it's so minor!" Fiske protested.

"Not from you," Rekishi informed him. "Hirotaka, since this fool doesn't wish to willingly provide knowledge, you may see to it that he will earn his keep in another way."

"As you wish," the big man, who had shadowed Fiske since he was released from the infirmary, made a polite gesture for the Englishman to precede him from the archives.

Fiske was tempted to decline. He knew what would happen next; the big man would become more insistent until bodily force came into play. While Montgomery Fiske wasn't usually averse to physical threats and force, this was a clear exception. He was still recovering from the trauma of being recovered, and the wounds the Yamanouchi had inflicted on him before and during the process. Gathering what dignity he could, he lurched to his feet and shuffled out of the building.

"I have spent more time on archaeological digs than anyone here," her snarled at the younger man, as the two walked across a courtyard. "Yamanouchi would benefit most by letting me work in the archives."

"But that is not your decision to make," Hirotaka informed him. He led Fiske to a small alcove off of the courtyard, where cleaning supplies were stored. He pulled out a broom and held it out to Fiske. The Englishman refused to take it.

"Your task is to clean the courtyard we just passed through," the Yamanouchi man explained. "It will be much easier with a broom than with your bare hands."

"I am an experienced archaeologist and a nobleman," Fiske growled back.

"Excellent!" Hirotaka approved. "As an archaeologist, you are used to removing dust and dirt from sensitive and fragile artifacts. The stone floor is sturdy, so removing the dirt from it will be easy in comparison. As a nobleman, I'm sure you have high standards for cleanliness, so the courtyard will be very clean when you are done."

Since Fiske still hadn't moved to take the broom, Hirotaka quickly leaned it against his shoulder. "I'll be back before noon to gauge your progress," he told his charge. "What happens next, depends upon you."

Fiske didn't move as the ninja strode away. He had no illusions that he was not being observed, so he wasn't about to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him display his temper. Instead, he returned the broom to the supply alcove, found a sunny corner, sat down, leaned back and closed his eyes. He smiled to himself, thinking of the Yamanouchi students and staff who had to remain alert and watching him, while he napped.

He wasn't so complacent that the footsteps approaching him failed to awaken him. Thinking a little more deeply, he realized that Hirotaka was probably deliberately making his footfalls heard...the big man was a ninja, after all. Theatrically, he open his eyes and stretched lazily, taking great joy in seeing the brief and slight look of annoyance on the young man's face. Almost against his will, Fiske admired the boy's self control.

"Ah, Fiske," the man commented, his voice betraying no emotion. "I see you've chosen to be stubborn. Still, it is mealtime and it would be poor form to not offer you something to eat. Follow me, please."

The Englishman was certain he knew what was about to happen, but he decided to play along. He lurched to his feet and followed the younger man, deliberately limping to slow his pace and force the ninja to slow, as well. There was a bit of a surprise on the journey to the kitchens.

Their route took them through several groups of students. The very youngest ate quickly under the stern gaze of older students. Teenage students had to snatch their food from an elderly cook, while older students were allowed a modicum of ease while they dined. Eventually, they reached the kitchens where, to Fiske's expectations, he received a single spoonful of watery rice. Instead of protesting, he simply smiled at the younger man, ate the rice and stood, waiting for the next move. Shrugging his shoulders, Hirotaka led him back to the courtyard.

"I see no reason to try to wait for you to speak first," the younger man sighed. "Know this, you will receive nothing more for any meal than that single spoonful of rice, until you decide to cooperate with us. This courtyard will also be your bed, with only a single blanket."

"I have recently been returned from hell," Fiske told him, his tone arrogant. "If you think that any torture you can heap upon me will be daunting, you are indeed a fool."

"Perhaps," Hirotaka nodded. "But perhaps ours is not the torture you should be concerned with."

"What does that mean?" Fiske demanded.

"Oh, what would I know?" Hirotaka asked him. "I've not been through the experiences that you have. Here we are, your duty to sweep the courtyard remains. I will be back this evening to see how you have done."

Again, Hirotaka left and again, Fiske was certain that he wasn't left alone. Again, he found a sunny corner and attempted to sleep. While he managed a nap of an hour or so, he was unable to remain asleep, so he settled in to meditate. His mastery of Tai Sing Pek Kwar meant that he was able to distance himself from his continual pain and current hunger...at least for a time. Despite his best efforts, he found himself growing bored. For a short time, he debated trying to return to the archives but discarded the notion. Undoubtedly, such an effort would result in capable ninja showing up to discourage him. In his current, weakened state, he had no illusions to how a physical confrontation would pan out. Thus, he felt a certain relief when Hirotaka returned to collect him as the sun was setting.

This time, the big young man showed now shock at his lack of work. Instead, he merely motioned for the Englishman to follow back towards the kitchens again. Again, Fiske noted students eating; although it seemed considerably more relaxed at this time. The portions were more generous and the stern looks that the older students had for the younger ones were relaxed. Some of the staff actually spoke while dining. Of course, he didn't expect such consideration and he was not disappointed. Again, he received a single spoonful of rice.

"You gain nothing with your defiance," Hirotaka pointed out, as he walked Fiske back to the courtyard.

"I maintain my pride," Fiske countered. "I maintain my ability to give you nothing."

"Yet you are overlooking something," the younger man pointed out.

By now, they were back at the courtyard, where a single blanket awaited Fiske. The Englishman chose to not ask what he was overlooking. Hirotaka simply looked at him for a long minute, clearly at a loss about his charge's behavior.

"You will sleep in this courtyard tonight," he finally told Fiske. "Should you try to leave, you will be returned here, forcefully if necessary. We will see if your attitude has changed by the morning."

Insisting that his attitude wouldn't changed seemed to be childish bravado, so Fiske didn't speak. Instead, he found the corner where the sun had shown onto the walls, wrapped the blanket around himself and settled in against the warm stone. Even before his stay in hell, he had been an experienced outdoors-man; camping in steaming jungles and on frigid peaks. He would not be daunted by a clear night spent outside.

Shortly after midnight, he felt his resolve start to loosen. He had spent nights in much colder, harsher conditions, but those night had been spent well-fed and with fine equipment. The high mountains were brutally cold at night, especially on a clear night, and the stone walls only retained the sun's warmth for so long. By the time sunlight stained the eastern sky, he was shivering uncontrollably, dividing his time between pacing to keep warm and lying, huddled up, to try to gain some rest. It was a relief to see Hirotaka.

The night's lesson had been harsh. Fiske realized that he was not taking in enough food to maintain his body, much less heal his wounds or keep him warm during a frigid night. Would Sensei let him die of a combination of exposure and starvation? While his manor suggested that he would not, one didn't become the head of a ninja organization without developing a ruthless side. Again, Hirotaka led him to the back of the kitchen, where he received a single spoonful of rice.

"I know you're determined," the young ninja told him, as they returned to the courtyard. "But you may not be taking everything into account."

Fiske just looked at him.

"I'm not much on religion," Hirotaka admitted. "But I'm pretty sure you're still the Yono's possession; you still have his mark on your hand."

Unconsciously, Fiske rubbed the aforementioned mark.

"I'm pretty sure you're willing to just go through with this," the younger man told him. "You'll keep starving yourself, making your demands, and hoping that Sensei will blink first. There's a problem with that; what happens to you if you go too far? You die and your soul goes back to the Yono's hell. I overheard a little of what you were telling Master Rekishi and if you think the Yono made it rough for you before, imagine what he'll be like when he gets his hands on you for the second time. That's what you're risking."

By now, they had reached the courtyard and Hirotaka led him to the alcove again. "It's up to you," he told Fiske. "But ask yourself if some sweeping and cleaning is worse than what you may be facing."

"Sweeping and cleaning won't save me from the Yono," Fiske pointed out.

"True," Hirotaka shrugged. "But it will give you more time to find a way to get out of that deal."

It was manipulation. Fiske was sure about that as he watched Hirotaka's broad back walk way again. Of course, being the best manipulation, it was all true. Fiske was sure that if he took that first step, if he started to do what Sensei wanted him to, he would soon find himself following a course that the old man had laid out for him. On the other hand, the alternative was much, much worse. Fiske didn't like Sensei but he absolutely loathed the Yono. Sensei had something close to a century of experience learning to manipulate others, but the Yono had been doing so for millennia. There was scant chance of using Yamanouchi's manipulation against it...and even less chance of fooling the Yono. Unfortunately, Fiske didn't have the luxury of distancing himself from both parties. Reluctantly, sure that he was going to regret his decision, he picked up the broom and began to sweep the courtyard.

Perhaps he was justifying his actions, but he noted that the work made him a bit warmer, although he lacked the stamina to sweep for long. He often stopped to catch his breath but always went back to his labors. As he worked, he concentrated on extending his arms and legs, stretching his limbs. He had developed an ache by the time Hirotaka returned at noon.

The younger man made a show of being surprised that Fiske had actually swept, but the Englishman knew better. He was certainly being observed by several skilled ninja and those observers would let the boy know what was happening. This time, Hirotaka didn't lead him to the back of the kitchens but to a table where mostly children, in normal clothing, sat. The food wasn't sumptuous, consisting of rice and vegetables, but there was considerably more of it than a spoonful. He only had minutes to eat, but it was enough; he could feel himself gaining strength that afternoon, as he continued to sweep the courtyard.

Perhaps it was more manipulation, but he realized that this was exactly what he needed; light exercise to inflict just a little stress on his wounded limbs and bones. A time would come when he would have a chance to break free of Yamanouchi's domination and when that time came, he would need a healthy body. This wasn't exactly a proper kung-fu workout, but it was all his body could handle at the moment. Perhaps it was time to take advantage of such rehabilitation and training the school could offer him.

He still needed to take frequent breaks during the afternoon, but he had finished by the time Hirotaka returned. Actually, he was sure that he was observed to have finished; and Hirotaka was informed. It made no difference; the result was the same. The younger man led him to the dining hall once again. This time, the meal served was more substantial and there was more time to eat it. While he didn't speak to the few adults in evidence, Fiske noted that during the evening meal, conversations were allowed. With his belly full, Hirotaka led him to a room.

It wasn't a luxurious or private room. There were three cots and two other men. The other men had already bedded down and Fiske saw no difference in the cots...and therefore no need to establish which cot belonged to whom. He also didn't see any need to socialize; he would be free of these dolts soon enough, without needing to get to know them. While the room was chilly, the blankets were warm, so Fiske managed a very good night's sleep.

The next few days were humiliating but necessary for the Englishman. His duties included sweeping and cleaning; hardly proper activities for a nobleman and world-renown archaeologist. Yet, he noted that the light, physical activity, proper diet and reasonable sleep were strengthening him. Still, he refused to be completely manipulated by his captors. He refused to speak further to Master Rekishi and he refused to speak to his roommates, even though they had given him their names. Wah and Lee held no interest for him, even though he noted that their names sounded more Chinese than Japanese.

Close to noon on the Fiske's fourth day of labor, he was idly wiping down a bathroom counter when Hirotaka approached him again.

"You are working," the younger man noted. "But you take no interest in your work."

"Why should I?" Fiske asked him. "I have no interest in joining this school, so why should I seek to impress you?"

"We still control your food and lodging," Hirotaka pointed out.

"So, you will once again take my meals and force me to sleep in the courtyard if I don't show the proper enthusiasm?" The Englishman asked. "How do you determine if my labor is adequate or if I have the proper attitude to keep me kept adequately."

"Very easily," Hirotaka told him. "It's just about time for the noon meal, let's go."

Fiske knew that he was about to receive some sort of lesson, but he couldn't tell what it was. With no real choice in the matter, he followed the big man to the dining area, as had become his routine. This time, Hirotaka intercepted his plate before Fiske could find his seat. Gesturing for him to follow, Hirotaka walked back to the guests' quarters that Fiske had been cleaning.

"These quarters are for visiting guests," Hirotaka explained. "Those that Master Sensei has invited to stay with us for a time, to share lore or skills with this school. Because of this, they deserve respect and that means clean quarters. By not cleaning them properly, you insult our guests and bring shame to the school."

"I know that you care nothing for this school," he continued, now walking into the bathroom. "But you still consume the food, wear the clothing and live in the housing that we provide. As such, you owe us honest efforts when you perform the tasks that offset our costs of keeping you."

Hirotaka dumped the food on the counter and stirred it with the chopsticks. Fiske flinched, knowing that he hadn't completely cleaned the grunge from the surface...and knowing what was about to happen.

"Eat," Hirotaka instructed him. "Savor your own labor." When Fiske hesitated, he continued, "if you do not eat this meal, I will have no choice but to assume that you are being overfed. In that case, I will see to it that you do not receive a meal this evening, nor tomorrow morning."

It was tempting. It was tempting to strike the smug expression off of the younger man's face, but Fiske knew that he wasn't in any condition to do so. Hirotaka would have been a difficult opponent in his prime...and he was not at that level. It was tempting to simply walk away, but he had no doubt that the young bastard had already justified starving him, using the very argument he had provided. It was tempting to be defiant, but he needed to eat if he was going to continue to recover. Contenting himself with a hard glare at the young ninja, Fiske took the chopsticks and consumed the meal, dissolved filth and all.

Needless to say, Fiske's job for the afternoon was to finish cleaning the guest quarters, food residue on the counter and all. That evening, Hirotaka again intercepted his meal and brought it...and him...back to the quarters. This time, he set the plate on the floor, picked up a towel and fanned the area. The Englishman flinched because he knew that a little dust was present and some of it settled in his food. Again, he ate, but this time there was very little in the way of foreign matter to consume.

For two more days, Hirotaka intercepted Fiske's meals and forced the captive to eat off of surfaces that he had cleaned. During dinner on the third day, the younger man brought his own meal along. This time, Fiske had been tasked with cleaning a meeting hall. Hirotaka set both meals on the floor, used a towel to stir up any dust in the area, then settled in to eat his own meal, while gesturing Fiske to join him.

It was manipulation. Fiske knew it was manipulation but he couldn't help but feel a certain pride that Hirotaka showed this level of confidence in him. Fiske actually smiled when he retired for the night and was almost eager to go to work the next morning. However, this morning was different. Instead of going to breakfast before working, Hirotaka handed him a plain, white training gi with no belt.

"The situation has changed," the younger man told Fiske. "You are no longer a simple servant of Yamanouchi. Master Sensei has decided to accept you as a probationary student. Your responsibilities and duties have changed. Follow me."

Hirotaka didn't give him a chance to speak and with nothing else to do, Fiske did as ordered. He soon found himself standing at the back of a training hall, where a young ninja ran students through very basic techniques and moves. The students were young adults, which surprised the Englishman. He expected that such basics would be best taught to the children. Idly, he noticed that his two roommates were among the students. He sneered at their efforts and would have laughed out loud except for the sudden and firm elbow in his ribs.

"This is a special class," Hirotaka told him, his voice very low. "Most have no skill in martial arts and will probably never develop to a level where we will consider them ninja."

"I doubt that Yamanouchi is training them out of some form of benevolence," Fiske whispered back. "As much as you like to act like some sort of bastion of kindness, you don't do anything that doesn't benefit yourselves."

"True," Hirotaka shrugged. "The goal here is to evaluate them and determine their suitability to perform other roles for us...staff at the school or perhaps non-combative agents elsewhere in the world."

As much as he wanted to snort at the concept, Fiske found that he couldn't. A good way to judge a man was to see how he reacted to training. This current class seemed dedicated but seriously unskilled.

"It's just as well that you didn't mock them out loud," the younger man told him. "Tomorrow morning, you'll be joining them."

"I'm well beyond their level," Fiske kept his voice low, but his sneer was firmly in place. "I'll learn nothing here."

"Like I said, the purpose is to evaluate, not educate," Hirotaka reminded him. "And you just failed your first evaluation, but you might still be able to pull things off. You'll be on a new schedule tomorrow. You'll still be cleaning, but you'll also spend time in training and in the archives."

"And what do I get if I play your games to the relic's satisfaction?"

"A chance to better your circumstances," the young ninja told him. "The chance to go through our archives and make use of our contacts. You sold your soul to the Yono but between what we know and what we can find out, you might be able to find a way to get out of the deal." The younger man looked at the older, showing disappointment in his expression. "Since we can't get you to do the right thing for the sake of doing the right thing, maybe we can get you to do the right thing for your own sake. It's not much, but it might be a start."

* * *

Yori stepped out of the elevator and set her course for the front door. She was fully into her latest role, playing the part of a visiting analyst for an international shipping company. Despite the excitement she felt, having managed to learn a great deal about Chinese trucks often hired by this particular conglomerate, her face was that of a woman who had to rush to her next appointment. Her stride was confident and rapid as she hurried out of the building, only pausing to provide the necessary courtesies to those around her. Keeping her eyes strictly on her path of travel, using her peripheral vision to scan for both obstacles and potential threats, she looked like any other skilled expert, hardly drawing a second glance.

Soon, she was at a bus stop, where she pulled out a cell phone and conducted a fake conversation while waiting for the vehicle. This gave her the excuse to turn around a few times, confirming that she was not being watched or followed. Soon the bus arrived and she ended her imaginary conversation and boarded. Keeping her expression that of a slightly hurrying young woman, she secretly seethed inside.

How could her elders be so blind? She respected Master Sensei, loved him as the father that she had never known. She willingly took on missions for the school; missions that put her in extreme danger and missions that required her to...

She chided herself when her recollections caused a momentary frown to appear on her face, but the concern remained. After all she had done in her young life for the school, how could her elders allow that...thing...inside? He had kidnapped her and tried to incinerate both her and the chosen one in magma! Even after they had rescued him from Amy Hall, he had trapped both Kim Possible and herself and forced them into a lava chamber while threatening to throw an innocent child, the Han, in as well! He sold his soul to the Yono and unleashed that evil power onto the very school, causing Master Sensei himself to be turned to stone! After all this, not only did Master Sensei order that he be revived, he ordered that Fiske be allowed to train as first a servant, and then a probationary student of Yamanouchi! Not only this, should the latest crisis be dealt with, Master Sensei intended to attempt to rehabilitate and release the arrogant fool!

Yori caught her breath and regained her inner composure before her turmoil could manifest in a noticeable manner. Even though Master Sensei usually gave her longer to recover from an assignment such as her last one, she had volunteered to perform this espionage task. With Fiske at Yamanouchi, she found no peace at the only home she had ever known. For the first time ever, she had welcomed leaving the school and was now dreading her return.

She left the bus at the stop she had already selected. A two-block walk, using the same deliberate stride, took her to her contact; the same service station she had visited when she had completed her last mission. This time, it wasn't the middle of the night, so she walked into the front door, looking for all the world like a businesswoman who was about to pick up her car.

"Ah, Miss Tanaka," an elderly man greeted her with a polite bow. "I regret to say that we have not completed servicing your vehicle, but will be done in a few minutes. In the meantime, may I offer you the comfort of our waiting area? There is also a lavatory in the back, should you need to use it."

Yori had no vehicle to be picked up, as the man well knew. However, playing the part, even though nobody was present to hear it, would make it more convincing if they were being observed from outside of the building.

"There is no problem," she answered, with a polite bow of her own. "I am a bit early. Please, do not let me interrupt your work."

"Thank you," he offered another bow and returned to his office. As would anyone waiting their vehicle, she poured herself a cup of tea and wandered idly to the large, interior window that offered her a view of the shop area. Looking for all the world like someone observing the servicing, she looked at the mechanic, who had a luxury car up on a lift while he worked on the undercarriage. The young man finished his current task and turned towards the window, while cleaning his hands on a rag. Yori caught her breath when she saw his face.

His reaction was more pronounced; his eyes widened and he gawked for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure and walked quickly to the lift's controls. Yori thought for a moment, contemplating a minor act of defiance against her school. By the time the car's tires reached the concrete, she had made her decision.

Discarding the paper cup, she walked firmly and quickly into the manager's office. "I would like to speak to the mechanic who did such wonderful work on my vehicle," she told him. "In private."

"Miss...this is very unusual," the older man wasn't a ninja; his discomfort and distress were too easily seen.

"I understand, but these are unusual circumstances," Yori told him. "I must make use of the comforts you provide. I understand that the mechanic is busy, so I will see him as soon as his duties permit."

Not giving the older man time to respond, she spun on her heal and stalked down a hallway towards the lavatories. Instead of using the ladies room, she opened an unmarked door and found herself in a familiar storage room where, once again, she found clothing appropriate to a country woman who was visiting the city for the day. She had changed into this attire by the time she heard a polite knock on the door.

"Enter," she ordered.

The door opened, admitting the nervous mechanic. Understanding that she wanted a private discussion, he closed the door behind him and stood straight, as an honorable man facing his doom.

"Fukishima," she said his name calmly.

"I will not say your name," he answered. "This is most irregular."

"How did you come to be here?" She demanded.

"If your master intended for you to know, you would already know," he informed her. "Is this some sort of loyalty test?"

"No," she hissed at him. "And do not worry about my master, worry about me! I am here now, and I am the one you need to concern yourself with. I am threatening you and will admit to doing so, should the details of this discussion ever come out."

He hesitated another few moments. "After my disgrace, I was given some hard choices," he finally told her. "My time...on the mountain...was over but I wasn't going to be able to leave my old life behind. My best choice was to attend a trade school and look for work. I chose to become a mechanic and certain people encouraged me to work here."

"Where you maintain this facility as a safe house," Yori nodded. "Does your boss know?"

"Of course. Yam...err...certain parties make sure the Yakuza and other thugs don't become a problem. It seems a good deal for all concerned."

"How about you?" She asked. "Are you happy?"

He only quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Your life, are you satisfied?" She persisted.

"I...am content," he finally admitted.

"You are?" She fixed him with a hard glare.

"I enjoy working on the cars," he shrugged. "They come in here with problems or needing routine maintenance. When they leave, they either work properly or will now run without problems. I currently tithe a portion of my wages to...the organization that I used to belong to...but I still make an adequate living. In the evenings, after work, I occasionally do things with friends, such as bowling, seeing a movie, or going to a karaoke club."

Yori continued to look at him, clearly making him uneasy. "Have you...found someone?" She finally asked him.

"No," he told her. "I'm not terribly interested in that and most young women don't consider a mechanic to be very admirable. I am working with my employer to purchase the business from him. When that happens, a business owner is more prestigious than a mechanic, so I may start searching for such."

Again, Yori struggled for what to say next. "If you had the choice to return, would you do so?"

"No," it wasn't an angry snap nor a timid admission, just a simple statement of fact. "Here, when I work hard and perform my duties well, I am compensated. Back there, hard work resulted in a verbal thanks and more work. In a way, my disgrace was the best thing that could have happened to me."

"Return to your duties," she instructed him. "My master will hear nothing of this from me."

"My thanks," he offered her a slight bow.

"No," she whispered, once he had left the room. "My thanks to you."

She left the storage room via the outside door and soon became just another woman making her way back to her home. She felt less certain of herself than she had felt this morning, as what she had once considered an undeniable truth was now less sure. Yet it was a necessary uncertainty, an unpleasant truth.

* * *

 _A/N: Again, big thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading._


	7. Chapter 7

Master Sensei was a man of many roles. As the head of an ancient and tradition-bound institution, he was well versed in the proper etiquette and bearing that this role required. As the head of a large and in many cases, ruthless, ninja organization, he could be stern and committed to the point of being cruel. As the head of a ninja school, he often assumed the role of a foster parent for the youth who he educated. As the man who ordered others to perform actions that were sometimes south of moral and honorable, he often played the role of councilor and confidant when those subordinates had difficulties with what they had done. However, all of these roles were enhanced by a certain, personality trait.

Sensei was being nosy.

Centuries of experience by his predecessors made it much easier. The campus was riddled with spy-holes and listening chambers. Almost every exercise yard and training room sported decorative carvings or bass reliefs, which concealed gaps to a hallway or room from which the occupants could be observed. Even mundane rooms such as the baths, the laundry and the kitchens were shaped in an ellipse, allowing a quiet listener at the proper focal point to hear supposedly private conversations.

Thus, the elderly man was now standing in a hallway which led between a closet in the archives and a storage alcove outside of one of the exercise yards. This hallway sported an exquisitely carved stone monkey with a gaping maw...through which one could observe the exercise yard by removing a cleverly colored piece of wood in the back of the monkey's throat. In the yard, a group of non-traditional students were performing basic drills.

Of course, Fiske knew the drills very well. While there were subtle differences between the discipline of Tai Shing Pek Kwar practiced at Yamanouchi and the one Fiske had practiced, they were similar enough that Fiske was clearly a master. To Sensei's mild surprise, Fiske showed no disrespect to the instructor, even though he was clearly superior to the young woman. On the other hand, and meeting the old man's regretful expectation, Fiske showed a great deal of disdain to his fellow students.

The nobleman had shown the same disdain towards his labors, until Hirotaka had forced a causal relationship between his performance and his situation. Despite the fact that Fiske had to know that he was being manipulated, he had developed a pride in doing a good job. It appeared that it was time to teach the Englishman yet another lesson.

The old man replaced the wood in the carving and stalked unhurriedly down the hallway and out through the archives. He was intimately familiar with his organization, so he knew where each of his standout students would be found at any time. His route took him through buildings, away from the usual paths, and led him to his goal much faster than most would have reached it. Of course, appearing suddenly in an unexpected place was part of the mystique of being a ninja master.

"Ah, Hirotaka," Sensei greeted the student, looking for all the world like he just happened to step around a corner as the boy was leaving his latest class. To Sensei's satisfaction, the younger man gave no sign of being shocked at his master's sudden appearance. Rather, he offered formal greetings.

"I am most pleased with how you convinced your charge to take pride in his work," Sensei informed the boy.

"My thanks, Sensei."

"Tell me, what is your opinion of his current status?"

"He has far to go," Hirotaka admitted. "He still scorns those with less skill than himself, although they have not had a fraction of the training that he has."

"How about his current training?" Sensei prompted.

"He endures it most enthusiastically. He is well aware that the light exercise is aiding in his recovery."

"Ah, so he seems to labor cheerfully and diligently when he reaps the benefits of his labor, but is still scornful of others," Sensei concluded.

"That is my observation, master."

"And mine as well," Sensei smiled at the young man. "Perhaps it is time to tie his fate with that of some lesser servants and see if his attitude changes."

"Of course, master," Hirotaka bowed. "I shall do so immediately."

"This evening will be soon enough," Sensei gently corrected the younger man. "Perhaps a night of contemplation will allow him to adapt to the new situation without the need for unpleasant consequences."

"It is worth a try, master," Hirotaka's tone was polite and proper, but his manner showed that he had major doubts that Fiske would gracefully change his attitude.

Sensei simply smiled and turned to his next task. While he agreed with young Hirotaka, it was vital that the younger man learn that by giving Fiske the opportunity to adjust without unpleasant consequences, he would eliminate Fiske's justification to complain about those consequences. The old man was educating both this student and his unwanted guest. Sensei had learned, both via instruction from his predecessor and personal observation, that the art wasn't so much in teaching a lesson as in how you taught it.

His next task was to debrief another promising student but he chose to exercise another bit of wisdom that long experience had taught him; to observe before the formal meeting. Yori was approaching the school, climbing the mountain after her latest mission in Tokyo. By walking through a tunnel and then climbing a seldom-used stair, Sensei reached a concealed balcony with nobody noticing him. From there, he watched the young woman pass by the watchers at the gates, then make her way to Master Tsukiakari's offices. As she strode, Fiske's class released and the Englishman and several of the probationary students left the exercise yard in route to their dining hall, a route that crossed Yori's path. Upon seeing the Englishman, the young woman tensed up and sneered at him.

Behind his mustache, Sensei frowned. Yori was far more disciplined than this; yet she made no effort to control herself, no effort to conceal her ire from the one who caused it. Even from his distant vantage point, Sensei could see her hands settle into tight fists, see the tension in the muscles of her lower arms. The Englishman may have noted her reaction, but many here did not care to have him near, so one more display of antipathy probably made no strong impression on him. He simply continued on his way, only looking to the sides to make sure he didn't collide with anyone. Once he was clear of the open area, Yori stalked on to Master Tsukiakari's office. Sensei slipped from the balcony and took a deserted path to his study.

"Yori will be showing up to report on her latest mission," he told his aide, once he arrived. "When she does, see to it that we are not disturbed."

"Yes, Master Sensei," the young man bowed.

Satisfied, the old master settled in behind his floor desk and reviewed a budget report, looking for all the world like he had been there the entire morning. By the time the young woman had finished her report to Master Tsukiakari and made her way to his study, he had noted that the incomes from the tithes in Taiwan had increased slightly and that opportunities in that nation were expanding. When his aide announced Yori's arrival, he made a slight show of putting the papers to one side as she entered.

"I report upon completing my mission," she announced with a bow. "As custom requires."

"Indeed, child," he gestured for her to be seated. "How did the mission go?"

"I found success," Yori answered. "While Master Tsukiakari will certainly find more details in the data I copied, it would appear that there were those in this company who were funneling money and services to a location in the Shanxi Provence."

"Well done," he noted. "But what of you during the mission?"

"I found no hardships nor dangers," she told him.

He merely looked at her.

"Was I followed, without my knowledge?" She asked. "Was I discovered?"

"Not to my knowledge," he gently answered her. "But did you encounter anything unexpected?"

"When I stopped in the service station, I took a cup of tea and observed a vehicle being repaired," she admitted, her shoulders slumping slightly.

"That behavior is to be expected by the identity you were mimicking," Sensei nodded.

"I...saw the mechanic," she pointed out.

"Ah...," Sensei rested a kindly gaze upon her. "Even those who have disgraced themselves can serve; if one is detached enough to allow them to do so."

"I...have difficulty reaching this level of detachment," she admitted.

"It can be difficult," he assured her. "Take Fiske, for example."

The reaction was subtle, but his trained eye caught it; the slight tension in her jaw and neck. In his presence, she tried to conceal her dislike but his experience at spotting such reactions was greater than her experience at concealing them.

And he knew what buttons to push.

"Yori," he chose to not use honorifics. "How old are you?"

"Twenty, master."

"You are no longer a teenager," he pointed out. "Although passions run strong in those your age, I had thought you capable of overcoming them."

"The fault is mine," she said the proper words, and showed the proper contrition by facing the ground. Yet, she was too good a student, far too disciplined, for the old man to accept that she had suffered a moment's weakness.

"Yet you would not allow yourself to exhibit such a loss of control without a reason," he told her. His voice was gentle, understanding. "Speak to me of your troubles."

She paused, although Sensei couldn't determine if she was doing so in order to order her thoughts or to center her emotions. Either way, it spoke well of her maturity that she would take time to do so, rather than simply blurting out a complaint.

"Why must Yamanouchi extend such courtesies to Fiske?" She finally asked.

"Because he is potentially of much use to us," he answered. "As dishonorable as his methods were, he accumulated a great deal of knowledge when he walked the Earth before taking the path of the Yono. His time in the Yono's hell can potentially give us an insight into the motivations of this demon, allowing us to counter it more effectively."

"Yet you allow him to wander the grounds of this school," she pointed out. "When, in the past, he has stolen valuable items from us."

"He is always watched," Sensei assured her. "And he is in no condition, at this time, to attempt an escape."

"Yet you rehabilitate him," she protested. "His attending the basic class will bring strength back to his limbs as well as discipline." She looked at her master with an expression as close to challenging as she ever allowed herself in his presence. "Should we weather this latest crises, what will become of him?"

"He will remain here until such time that I am satisfied that he is no longer a threat to others," he assured her, although he did not appreciate being questioned by one as young as her. "At such time, I will release him."

"To return to his mansion and wealth," she concluded. "He inherited a great deal of his wealth, yet he has increased it by dishonorable means. He will return to luxury and leisure."

"Is that the issue you have?" Sensei's inquiry was gentle but firm. "Do you wish the luxury that he had prior to following the path of the Yono?"

"No!" Yori's tone indicated the level of insult offered to her. "I do not seek leisure or luxury! I merely question allowing one such as he to return to such things."

"Why do the honorable labor and sacrifice, while the unworthy seem to reap the rewards?" The old man intoned. "I have heard this question many times, worded in many different ways, from many people...including myself, when I was your age. In Fiske's case, the answer is simple; I do not have control over his estate, so I cannot give it to whom I deem a worthy keeper. Even if I had the power to do so, I would not wish it. It simply isn't my place to do so. To seek more authority, to try to control the Fiske wealth, would lead me down a path similar to the one that he took."

"Yet what about what you can control?" She pressed the issue, something very out of character for her. "I have heard that you give him access to our archives, is this not a risk?"

"It is," he admitted. "And one that is my choice to take or not."

In response, she lowered her head, looking at the floor.

"Yori, are you looking for revenge?" He asked. "Revenge is foolish! I know that this man nearly incinerated you twice, that he caused great damage to the school and because of him, the Yono turned me to stone. But will harming him now cause any of those things to not happen?"

"No..." she whispered in reply. "But it may prevent him from doing the same, to someone less capable of defending themselves, in the future. If an evil man only experiences slight consequences for his deeds, what is to prevent him from doing more?" She looked at him again. "What his the difference between justifiable retribution and foolish revenge?"

"That is something that the aged and wise struggle with, daily," had admitted to her. "And it must be determined on a case-by-case basis. Between the time that Fiske performed his evil deeds and now, he has suffered through the Yono's hell. It is my belief that we do not need to punish him further; we merely need to help him understand that his actions put him there and may put him back. It's for this reason that I seek to educate him, rather than punish him."

"I bow to my master's greater wisdom," she offered, as way of apology, but Sensei could see that her heart wasn't in the apology.

He had observed young people for many years and although she performed an admirable job of suppressing her emotions, she couldn't conceal them from him. He managed to avoid sighing in frustration, knowing that such things must follow their own course.

"Return to your quarters," he instructed her. "Rest, meditate at the shrines, speak with those whose company you cherish. Find your inner balance. You took this mission too soon after your last one; you hadn't had enough time to find your center."

"I obey my master," the young woman informed him, rose her her feet, and bowed her way out of his study.

Sensei took a long moment to contemplate his recently-departed student. Yori was among the most capable and faithful ninja of her generation, but she was still young. She probably saw him as the epitome of authority, rather than as the servant to necessity that he was. He allowed himself a resigned sigh; as much as he hoped that she would eventually attain high office within the Yamanouchi organization...for Yamanouchi's sake, he also hoped that she would not. For her sake.

His moment of contemplation finished, he set about his tasks for the day. He had budgets to allocate, training courses to approve or alter, recruitment goals and methods to review and implement. In many ways, being the master of Yamanouchi was like being a juggler handling balls of lead, glass and rubber. The lead balls, when dropped, fell away and were forgotten. The rubber balls, when dropped, would bounce up and give one a second chance. The glass balls, however, when dropped would shatter and bring on sometimes dire consequences.

Engrossed in his tasks, he did not realize that noon had come until his aide interrupted his latest work. Grateful for the excuse to stretch his old legs and escape his study for a short time, he took a light meal and strode about the grounds, observing his charges as they both learned and served. After lunch, it was time for a meeting of the masters, followed by more paperwork and his daily workout. Finished, he once again took sparsely-traveled routes to a certain exercise yard, where he was able to discreetly observe when Hirotaka spoke to Fiske after the probationary students' evening exercises.

As much as he had chagrined Yori for showing emotion, here, out of sight, he indulged in a moment of cruel glee when he saw Fiske's expression. The nobleman first glared at Hirotaka, then looked with something close to despair at his two roommates. Finally, Fiske settled on an expression of resignation.

* * *

This was intolerable!

By what justification did Yamanouchi attach his fate to these two...imbeciles? Fiske had finally gotten a little of what he wanted; his duties at Yamanouchi allowed him a bit of free time to dig through the archives; combine the observations of generations with his first hand observations and try to find a way out of...this. But no! Now, that infernal old man had tied his fate with these...unworthy wretches!

The idiots were completely helpless when it came to the most basic forms and techniques! If Fiske were to waste his time helping them, he would have no time to study the archives. Yet, if he were to spend his time in the archives, he was certain that the two dolts would fail and return him to the point where, ironically enough, he would have no access to the archives.

He stood outside the building which housed the spartan quarters he shared with the two. He fumed and thought, trying to find a way out of his predicament. Finally, he decided on the lesser of two evils and stormed into the quarters and chased the two younger men outside. There, he spent a couple of hours instructing them in the most basic of kung-fu skills; the proper placement of the feet, weight distribution and when to lock your joints or to leave them fluid. After two hours, he decided that further instruction would be counter-productive and besides, he was growing weary as well. He accepted their clumsy thanks and chased them off to bed, certain that he was somehow being manipulated by Sensei, yet again.

For three days, he struggled to teach Wah and Sung the basics. He had no doubt that the extra attention helped them as although they still seemed more akin to sloths with two right feet, they were improving. The youthful instructors who ran the probationary students through their basic exercises seemed pleased with them, but Fiske knew that institutions such as Yamanouchi worked on timelines more extended than was convenient for him. He needed to get the two dolts to a level that would allow him to return to his studies...but they just weren't there.

On the fourth day of dealing with his new charges, Hirotaka intercepted him as he left the yard after morning training.

"You have a visitor," the younger man told him. "Your other duties for this morning are excused. Follow me."

Fiske ground his teeth but did as told. His morning's duties were scheduled to include work in the archives, which would have allowed him some time to dig through them for references to the Yono. Seething, he followed Hirotaka through the grounds. He noted that he left the areas he was most familiar with and walked into an area that seemed somewhat separated from most of the facility...as if Yamanouchi didn't want the rest of the school to see what took place her.

Or maybe Yamanouchi didn't want anyone here to see what took place in the rest of the school.

They went into a building that Fiske had never entered before. The Englishman had a few moments to note that the interior looked modern and western, before Hirotaka opened a door and motioned for him to enter. Careful to neither speed nor slow his stride, Fiske did as prompted...only to stop in his tracks.

Inside the room, a familiar form stood from one of the chairs that surrounded a meeting table.

"M'lord Fiske!" The familiar voice greeted him.

"Bates," Fiske's voice was considerably colder, which wasn't lost on his onetime manservant.

"I-It's wonderful seeing you...mobile...again," the man offered.

"I cannot say the same for you," Fiske just managed to keep his tone from becoming a snarl. His hand twitched, wanting so much to throttle this dolt who had played a part in bringing him here.

"M'lord?" Bates clearly didn't know the reason for his ire...wasn't capable of grasping the reason.

"What is the reason for this meeting?" He demanded of his escort.

"You're still the lord of the Fiske Estate," Hirotaka pointed out. "Even though you're something other than a guest here. Mr. Bates has been placed in charge of the estate, as you are still officially a missing person. Master Sensei worked with a couple of other interests to allow Bates to come here, so you can direct his future activities."

Indeed, Bates pulled out a notebook and called up a screen with a ledger. Still seething at the man, Fiske stalked forward and dropped into a chair, directly in front of the offered figures. What followed was a briefing that irritated him like few things in his life ever had. Bates had squandered a great deal of wealth on such useless items! He could have almost understood if the dolt had spent the money on himself, but what he had purchased was...foolish!

"Why did you spend all of this money on international travel?" Fiske demanded, once Bates had fully reviewed his current, financial status.

"I was looking for you, m'lord," Bates insisted. "Nobody knew what had become of you, so I personally tracked down what leads were available."

"Have you ever been an investigator?" Fiske demanded. At Bates' soundless shake of his head, he continued. "You should have hired a proper, investigative firm. It would have costed more but the travel would have then not been money simply thrown away! You worked with me before, so you knew that there were those you could have reached who sometimes worked in a legal gray area."

"But, m'lord..." he began to protest.

"And these donations to put a child through boarding school," Fiske continued, not giving the man a chance to speak. "Have you suddenly become charitable, with my possessions, or could you have a more personal connection to the whelp?"

"Sir?"

"Is this your child?" Fiske demanded, roaring out his anger. "Are you educating some child of yours at my expense?"

"Absolutely not!" Pure outrage gave Bates the courage to stand up to his angry master. "This child is the next in line to the Fiske Estate! I was ordered by a representative of Her Majesty herself to see to his needs!"

"So you spend my money on my replacement?" Fiske's voice rose a full octave...and several decibels.

"When specifically ordered to by the crown, yes m'lord."

"Bah!" Fiske backhanded the offending notebook across the room. He would have backhanded Bates as well, but we pretty sure that Hirotaka would intervene in a most violent manner. "I would have never let any agent of the crown force this upon me! I don't know what happened to you after we recovered the last of the jade idols, but your loyalty suddenly vanished! You abandoned me, then leap at the opportunity to mismanage my estates. Finally, your clumsy efforts brought the attention of both the crown and Yamanouchi onto me!"

"M'lord?" Again, Bates was confused.

"Your efforts to procure the knowledge and materials to return me to flesh were clumsy," Fiske explained, as if he were speaking to a child. "They were easily tracked and led to both the crown and Yamanouchi realizing what you were doing. Because of this, I came to life here, rather than at my estate where I could have recovered and been prepared to confront those who would exploit me. Instead, I find myself being used as a servant and forced to divulge the secrets I spent a lifetime learning!"

Bates had no answer to this, although his face had gone ashen.

"Deal with my estate as you will!" Fiske finally spat. "It is of no consequence to me at this time...which is probably just as well! Give this next Lord Fiske the same loyalty that you gave me! Let's see how well the little wretch does with such service."

"I think this meeting is over," Hirotaka was suddenly right behind Fiske. "Mr. Bates, Yamanouchi thanks you for making the journey on such short notice and apologizes for the reception you have received. A staff member will be by shortly to see to your lodging until we can arrange your return journey. Fiske, it's time to get back to your duties."

Fiske contented himself with a harsh glare as Hirotaka ushered him out of the room.

"I suppose you're going to tell me that I handled him too harshly," Fiske growled at his escort, once they were away from his former manservant.

"It's not my place to say," Hirotaka told him. "It's going to be up to you to decide but I should warn you, Master Sensei has some interesting and effective ways of changing a person's attitude."

* * *

"So, what is your opinion?" Master Sensei asked his guest.

"He's arrogant and self-centered," Dr. Director answered. The woman had been honestly surprised when Sensei invited her to observe Fiske's reaction to seeing Bates. She had been even more surprised to observe the meeting via a hidden camera. She shook her head at her own prejudices...she had assumed that spying would be done via secret chambers and carefully concealed spy holes. "He refuses to change his perspective to his manservant's and because of this, he cannot comprehend that Bates served him; not only to the best of his ability, but well."

"Your observations match my own," Sensei nodded to her. "But I have noted more, due to greater time observing him. He will shortly be dealing with others of his rank, would you care to observe?"

"It would be my pleasure," she answered, rising to her feet. "There's an old piece of dating advice in America. It goes something to the point that if you want to see what a person is really like, observe him while he deals with a subordinate."

"That seems good advice," the old man led the way out of his study and along seldom-used passages. Soon, he cautioned Dr. Director to keep her voice down while he pulled a piece of wood from the throat of a carved, stone monkey and gestured her to look through. An odd smile appeared on her face as she did so. While she observed Fiske, he observed her.

Her jaw clenched and there was a slight tightening of her forearms. Sensei knew the response well; she was mentally placing herself in Fiske's situation and was therefore ready to throttle the man for his attitude. It did not take long before she backed away from the spy hole. Sensei returned the bit of wood, then led her back towards his study.

"He makes no distinction between those who have actively harmed him, those who have not lived up to his expectations, and those who simply happen to be in his way," she commented, once they were safely away from the statue.

"Again, this is much as I have observed," Sensei noted. "Although I prefer to have a second opinion; and one that comes from outside Yamanouchi is particularly prized."

"That observation was satisfying," she told him, now sporting a small grin. "Somehow, observing someone through a peephole seems more in place for a ninja school than watching him on a screen."

"We embrace progress where it is efficient," Sensei returned her smile. "But sometimes, the traditional ways provide more contentment."

"So, what will you do with Fiske now?" She asked, as they reached the old man's study.

"I had hoped that he would learn his own lesson from all of this," Sensei sighed. "Knowledge that you derive for yourself is retained longer, but it appears that he is incapable of doing so. I shall have to subject him to a more intense lesson."

"I'll leave that up to you," Director shrugged. "But in the meantime, I was hoping that we could agree to a greater exchange of data and resources, even beyond dealing with the Yono."

"Of course,' Sensei nodded. "Our organizations seem to strive for similar goals, there is no reason that we cannot be allied." He sighed. "The issue of the Yono is vexing, is it not? What assets we can move into China are looking, yet they have found nothing. Does that mean that we are in the wrong place, that the Yono's agents are clever, or that there is nothing happening at this time?"

"That's the nature of surveillance," Dr. Director sighed in return. "Too often, you learn that you missed something after it's too late. There's no prize for predicting the past."

Sensei snorted at the realistic humor.

"I'm willing to share a bit of information, as a sign of goodwill between us," she told him. "It's only tangentially relevant to Fiske's situation, but you may find it of use."

Sensei merely quirked an eyebrow.

"Global Justice counselors are currently working with Mr. Stoppable," she told him. "He seems to have some issues with the Mystical Monkey Power."

"What sort of issues trouble young Stoppable?"

"He's afraid of the power," she answered. "To be more exact, he's afraid that he may use it to harm someone in a moment of pique."

"I believe that one of your presidents said that nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power." Master Sensei nodded. "It would appear that young stoppable is passing this test, which may explain why the Mystical Monkey Power has chosen him."

"Chosen?" Director asked.

"The Mystical Monkey Power is not a mindless force," Sensei explained to her. "While those exposed to it will gain certain aspects of it, it saves it's greatest gifts for those it chooses to bestow them upon."

"And Fiske wasn't such a person," Director prompted.

"Fiske is arrogant and ambitious," Sensei confirmed. "He is also self-centered. I believe that when he obtained the first of the jade statues, the power awakened in him a desire to obtain the other three. However, by handling the statues, he gave it a glimpse into his character. The power itself probably found him wanting due to the very traits you just saw him exhibit."

"So, how did it call Stoppable?"

"I don't believe that it is capable of calling anyone in particular," he pointed out. "When Fiske obtained the last statue, it compelled him to steal it away, so that he could be observed and hopefully, a hero would have arrived to right the wrong and, hopefully, place himself or herself in a position to be judged by the power."

"So it got Stoppable instead of Possible," Director concluded.

"And seems to be well pleased with him," Sensei agreed.

"If you're so knowledgeable about this power, why didn't you recover the statues?" Dr. Director asked him.

"I do not believe that the Mystical Monkey Power would accept me," he answered. "I am the head of the Yamanouchi School, and therefore my discretion in utilizing the power is inherently compromised."

"Much like Toshimiru," Dr. Director noted. "He already owed the emperor and his temple his loyalty."

"I see you understand," Sensei smiled at the younger woman. "The Mystical Monkey Power serves a purpose and that purpose cannot be fulfilled by one who already has certain ambitions or conflicting loyalties. Students at my school would be unacceptable, as would members of your organization. Members of the various armed forces, law enforcement organizations, or those who have powerful, personal ambitions would not be to the power's liking."

"So, someone who is afraid of using it, who won't use it except as a last resort, would be perfect for it." Director concluded.

"Exactly," Sensei nodded again. "Even one such as Miss Possible, who has powerful goals and strives to be a hero, would not meet with its approval. For her, the temptation to use it to impose her view of right and wrong upon the world would be too great."

"I guess the lack of higher ambition can be an asset, to someone or something who knows how to make use of him," she shrugged her shoulders. "In the meantime, we still have some details to work out."

"Indeed," Sensei noted. "I would also like to familiarize you with more of my organization, as we previously agreed. This will take the remainder of the day, so it is my honor to extend Yamanouchi's hospitality to you for tonight. If you would like, I can arrange for you to test yourself against some of my better students."

"Master Sensei," there was a predatory smile on Dr. Director's face. "I thought you'd never make the offer."

* * *

"You have different tasks for today, once again."

Fiske tried to take the declaration stoically, but it wasn't easy. The continuing aggravation of trying to teach Sung and Wah, added with his meeting with Bates yesterday, had done much to make sure that he had started off the morning in a fouler mood than usual. Instead, he followed the younger man to yet another point within Yamanouchi that he wasn't familiar with. Finally, Hirotaka stopped at a heavy door. Idly, Fiske noted that the door was decorated with symbols depicting both fire and earth.

"Here," Hirotaka opened a nearby box and pulled out what appeared to be a tool belt. "Put this on and open the door."

Grumbling, Fiske did as ordered. Upon pushing the door open, he found himself facing a rough-hewn passage through the native rock. A tap on his back caused him to spin around to find Hirotaka handing him a lit lantern and several bottles of water.

"Your duty for today is to follow that passage," the big man told him. "You will receive lessons during the journey. It will be up to you to learn from them."

Fiske took the offered equipment, attached the bottles to his belt and started his journey. He wanted to demand more information, but he was certain that this was supposed to be some sort of mysterious journey of self-discovery. After a dozen strides, Hirotaka slammed the door shut. Despite his sudden feeling of nervousness, he refused to rush back and try to open the door. It would have been too stereotypical and would have given his captors too much satisfaction. Instead, he swallowed his unease and continued.

He wondered why he was so nervous; others had obviously gone this way before him, and those others most certainly were nowhere near as formidable as he. Then he realized that this was the first time in over a decade that he was going into the unknown without his monkey ninjas accompanying him.

" _Perhaps I have received an inadvertent lesson about over-dependence_ ," he mused. The passage proved to be a steep, winding grade downward. It was dark, but the lantern provided enough illumination to avoid stumbling too often. After more than an hour, his feet started to hurt terribly. While his prehensile feet were invaluable in a fight or when climbing, they were a severe handicap when walking long distances. There was a reason that baboons and other terrestrial monkeys had lost a great deal of the prehensile capabilities from their rear appendages; human-like feet were better for a long walk.

Finally, after over two hours of walking, he reached a door. Since he had no other way to go, he pushed hit open and discovered that the passage was gone. He was now high on the wall of a vast, open cavern. In front of him, he saw a tunnel of sorts, formed by metal bars. It appeared that several bars formed the 'floor' of the tunnel, as well as the sides, running parallel to his direction of travel. More bars wrapped around these, forming the tunnel and, he assumed, making sure that nobody actually fell through the gaps. He looked up and noted that at regular intervals, chains linked to the top of the 'tunnel' and ran up into darkness, clearly supporting the metal pathway. Deciding that he must go on, he attached the lantern to another hook on his belt and continued, using his feet to grip the lower bars and his hands to grasp the bars to either side. As he continued, a red glow grew.

Sometime after the door behind him was lost in darkness, metal grates swung down from the ceiling of his tunnel, both in front of and behind him. They locked into place, trapping him in a tunnel section some ten feet long.

"What is the meaning of this?!" He demanded to the red-tinged darkness around him.

Before he could speak further, a sickening lurch shuddered through his cage. The cage detached itself from the rest of the path and started to move away from it. Fiske looked up and noted that is cage was supported by a chain, but he couldn't see what the chain was attached to, what was ultimately supporting his cage. Obviously, the support point was mobile, as he found himself being carried off at a fairly impressive rate, causing the cage to rock and sway in a nauseating motion.

He had only a few seconds to contemplate vomiting before the space below him became brightly lit. He was now over a lava lake, some fifty feet above the glowing, liquid stone. Up above him, the support point stopped with the loud clang of metal striking metal, causing his cage to swing in a wide arc above the molten stone. He heard the sound of metal being manipulated above him, then the cage began to lower.

"What is the meaning of this?" He roared again.

Suddenly, he found himself even with a small, level spot on the cavern wall. On this level spot he saw a slowly turning winch, ostensibly controlling his very unwelcome descent. A young woman, the same one that he had seen speaking to his statue, stood next to the winch. He now noted that she was familiar from before he took the Yono's path, but he couldn't recall from where.

"Stop this immediately," he demanded of her.

"Greetings, Fiske," the woman replied. "I must tell you that I will not stop your descent at this time. You must tell me why I should do so, before I will."

"Who are you?" He demanded.

"My name is Yori," she replied. "It was not many years ago that I was in your position, locked in a cage, being lowered into a lava lake to be incinerated. You, in fact, were the one who put me into that position."

THAT was why she looked familiar, but it didn't seem wise to say so at this time.

"So is this some form of revenge?" He demanded, as his cage continued to descend. While he was now below Yori, her reply was easily heard.

"Revenge is a waste of effort," she replied. "And your questions consume time that you would be better utilized by you justifying your rescue."

"I am a guest of the Yamanouchi," he informed her, eyeing the approaching lava with a certain, growing concern. "It is very poor form to incinerate a guest."

"You are a guest of the Yamanouchi," Yori agreed. "But not a guest of mine. Master Sensei has given me complete discretion to handle this situation as I see fit."

"Okay, rescuing me is the right thing to do," now, the temperature on the sole's of Fiske's feet was getting uncomfortably high.

"I am ninja, not samurai," Yori countered. "My definition of right and wrong does not fit into the same mold to which you are accustomed."

"Meaning?" He demanded.

"Meaning that I look beyond this 'right and wrong' of my personal behavior," she told him. "You are a stain on the world, Fiske. While you may be _**capable**_ of redemption, it is uncertain that you will _**achieve**_ redemption. Would any be harmed, or even inconvenienced if you were to be incinerated...in the next six minutes?" She paused a moment. "If you were to meet the lava, vanish without a trace, how many beyond the walls of Yamanouchi would even know?"

For several, precious seconds, Fiske racked his brain, trying to come up with a name of anyone who would be truly sorry to lose him. The members of his group? The only contact he had with them was when he scorned them. Bates? Bates was a faithful servant, whom Monty had just treated with contempt. Hirotaka? While the senior student would probably feel a minor sense of loss, it would be one of personal failure in not rehabilitating him, not a sense of loss for him. His monkey ninjas? Were they truly happy serving him, or would they be better off in a rain forest somewhere, living their lives as free monkeys?

Lord Montgomery Fiske suddenly realized that if he were to die here today, to be incinerated with no trace left...nobody would mourn his loss and only a handful would even realize that he was gone.

"Very well," he tried again. "Your master has agreed to rehabilitate me, obviously, I must be worth saving."

"Master Sensei agreed to _**attempt**_ your redemption," Yori corrected him. "And this is part of his attempt. Should you fail, it will prove that you were beyond his ability to redeem."

"This is preposterous!" He protested, now the hair on his toes was starting to smolder, prompting him to climb to the top of his cage. "This is cruel."

"No more cruel than putting me in a cage, much like yours," she countered. "No more cruel than lashing me to another and forcing us into a lava chamber to recover a red gem." Her ledge was now high enough above him that he had difficulty seeing her shake her head in disgust. "And even after I helped rescue you from Doctor Hall's clutches. You pick a poor subject upon whom to protest the cruelty of your situation."

Fiske ground his teeth in both frustration and pain. He honestly couldn't come up with a reason why the wench should stop the winch. His clothing was now starting to smoke and blisters were beginning to form on his skin.

"I'll give you everything I have!" He screamed in desperation. "You can have anything of my estate, which is still extensive! Take it for yourself or share it with your school, I don't care! Just save me!"

"My idea of wealth is different from yours," her voice sounded calm from above him. Of course, _**not**_ descending into magma probably contributed to her calm demeanor. "Your wealth does not have a solid appeal to me. Besides, what's to say that you'll forget such promises as soon as you are free of this fate?"

"Fine, you have no reason to assist me!" He screamed. "I can only ask you, even beg you, to help me even though you have no reason!"

Suddenly, his cage stopped its downward motion, almost dislodging him from his hold on the top bars. It then began to rise away from the seething magma below.

"You have finally provided an adequate reason," Yori's voice sounded from above him, her voice reflecting the slight strain she must be experiencing while operating the winch.

"Reason?" He asked, while patting at his smoking clothing.

"The fact that I had no reason," she informed him. "The fact that rescuing you would go beyond any logical reason for me."

Fiske choose to not answer.

"Do you not see, Fiske?" Yori's voice lashed at him. "I had no reason to rescue you, other than my own, free choice. I chose to rescue you, even though I saw no personal gain. Even though I had every reason to let you descend, I had the choice to assist you, the man who had twice tried to kill me, I chose to let you live. If I can make this choice, even though I have every reason to despise you, can you not make the same choice when dealing with one who has never done you harm? Can you not make the same choice when dealing with someone who merely inconveniences you, through no fault of his own?"

He was now level with Yori again. She could now look him in the eye.

"That is the lesson you must learn, the motivation you must seek to gain," she continued. "To show respect, patience and even kindness, even though it gives you no benefit."

The woman pulled a lever and the cage suddenly swung away from her. The unexpected motion drew a most undignified scream from Fiske's throat. The wild ride ended, however, with a gentle landing on another ledge. The cage fell apart.

"On your ledge, you will find healing balms for your burns," Yori's voice sounded from the somewhere across the lava pool. "You will also find a passage leading back to the surface. This passage will lead to a quiet garden, where a surging waterfall flows into a peaceful pool. There, the waters join in tumultuous harmony. When you arrive in this garden, perhaps you will ask the Kodama that live there if they will help you to understand the lessons that have been presented to you today. If you hurry, you will be able to do all of this and still attend your evening practice and enjoy your evening meal."

"But what if I cannot move quickly enough?" Fiske demanded. The silence that answered him told him that Yori had gone.

Grumbling to himself, he made use of the balms, coating the considerable burns over his body. He also drank a great deal of the water he still carried. Holding his lantern in front of him, he found the passage the girl had told him about and started his journey anew. This time, the route ascended in steep spirals. His wounds slowed him even as the prospect of seeing the sun again spurred him forward.

After two hours of travel, and consuming the last of his water, he felt a breeze of fresh air on his face and considered it the most blessed experience of his life. Minutes later, he stepped out of a cavern and into the garden, which was as tranquil as Yori had promised. He also saw the pool and waterfall, but contemplation of tumultuous harmony had to wait while he plunged his head into the pool and quenched his thirst. Sated, he contemplated his peaceful surroundings.

His own religious beliefs were confused, as he couldn't say that he honestly believed in anything beyond power. He folded his legs into the lotus position and tried to calm his mind. Finally, he felt prepared to commune with whatever power seemed to watch over this garden.

"Oh power that is present here," he began. "I _f you are a spirit of the forest, the waters or the earth. If you are a god of any the religions I have studied and scorned in the past, I ask you to hear my plea. Please, allow me to grow wiser due to the suffering I have just endured. Help the pain I still feel not have been endured in vain. Help me also to achieve the inner serenity that I sense in this holy place._ "

He heard no response...he wasn't really expecting one...but he honestly hoped to somehow understand the test the Yamanouchi had just inflicted upon him. Bowing to the garden, he took his leave and made his way to back to the Yamanouchi School.

He didn't notice the one-eyed woman who sat quietly and observed and listened to him from behind a low shrub.

He made it just as evening practice was being called and despite his painful burns, he attended the practice. His group's performance hadn't gotten any better in his short absence. At the practice's conclusion, he realized that if he hurried, he could seek assistance at the infirmary before the evening meal was served. However, he looked at his companions. He had no reason to assist them, but perhaps he should; so he called them together.

"Wah," he addressed the first youth. "You still have not mastered the front snap kick. When doing so, remember that the knee goes up before the foot goes out. An easy way to remember is to strike your butt with your heel both before and after the kick. Try it, excellent! Remember to strike your butt with your heel with each kick, and you will do much better."

"Sung," he spoke to the next youngster. "You bounce too much when you move. Don't lift your feet from the ground, slide them along the ground in half-circles. Maintain contact with the ground, in case you have to change direction suddenly. The goal is to keep your head at the same level throughout the motion. Okay, you're not quite there but you'll get better."

"Perhaps I have been hasty," he told them. "We are allowed a certain amount of conversation during the evening meal. Let's make use of this, tell me your backgrounds."

During dinner, Fiske learned that both young men were orphans from Taiwan. While they had received a very basic education from their orphanage, they had never been trained in certain manners or martial arts. While the Yamanouchi instructors tried to show them how to perform the basic moves and strikes, they had never been told why. Fiske realized that a little explanation could go a long way to improving them so, during the walk back to their quarters he did his best. While not well educated, they were far from fools; they quickly understood the benefits of weight distribution, striking points, and when to lock joints. Despite his burns, Fiske slept better that night than he had in a long time.

The next morning, his charges exhibited considerable improvement but Fiske realized that the three could do better. Upon being released from the morning exercises, he discussed their duties. He quickly realized that if the three teamed up and worked together to perform their mundane tasks, they would do their work more efficiently, freeing up more time for him to spend in the archives. Again, he was being manipulated but for the first time, he realized that the manipulation might be to his benefit. Of course, he had another task to perform.

As was his habit, Hirotaka met Fiske after lunch to check on his progress. This time, Fiske had a request of the younger man.

"If you could arrange another meeting with Bates, I would be most appreciative," Fiske told him. "The man did the best he could, under the circumstances and I owe him an apology."

* * *

 _A/N: As always, big thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for his beta reading._


	8. Chapter 8

"Our spy network continues to bring us bits and pieces of information," Master Sensei declared to his board of advisers. "Our spy has brought additional information, gleaned from the records of a shipping conglomerate, provided us with the clues we needed to focus our efforts. We definitely know now that a Dark Forces crew took Dr. Hall's creature from the Thailand border to a warehouse in Xi'an. From there, it was picked up and taken by more members of the Dark Forces. We are reasonably certain that the creature hasn't been removed from Xi'an."

The old man gave the assembled men a few moments of optimism before he felt compelled to crush it. "This means that the creature is somewhere in a city of some twelve million people, where we have no direct spy network. If this were not bad enough, we have made no progress in obtaining the Chinese officials' cooperation. The officials within the People's Republic are avowed atheists, so I do not deem it wise to discuss the Yono. These officials are not eager to allow the agents of a Japanese institution, even one not officially controlled by the government, into a culturally sensitive area."

"How about your recent guest, Master Lishi?" Fiske asked him.

This prompted some hard looks the Englishman's way. Since his lesson in the magma chamber, Fiske had become considerably more forthcoming with information about the Yono's realm. He had also become a great deal more of a mentor to his two roommates. He had even apologized to his servant, Bates, for the scorn and humiliation he had shown the man in return for faithful service. However, the Englishman...no, the probationary student...had far to go. Still, Sensei had him attend meetings that debated what to do about the Yono.

"I fear that our Chinese friend does not have sufficient influence to prompt his government's authorities to take the required actions," Sensei told his reluctant student, along with the rest of the masters. "Performing a building-by-building search of the entire city, as well as the outlying areas, would entail a great deal of expense for the government and a great deal of disruption to the citizens."

"The Yono being free will cause more disruption and greater expense," Fiske pointed out, with a slight sneer.

Sensei sighed. The two weeks since Fiske had been subjected to the magma chamber had highlighted both his progress and his failure to learn. While he was much more respectable to Master Rekishi, the head of the Yamanouchi Archives, he was still disdainful towards Master Shinpi, the Master of Mysteries, Master Tsukiakari, the Master of Spies and Master Jinmon, the Master of Strikes. Fiske showed a certain respect towards Hirotaka but contempt for most of the rest of Yamanouchi's residents.

"It will be most disruptive to our plans if we let the Yono know that we are searching for him," Master Tsukiakari favored Fiske with a sneer of his own. "We do not have the manpower to quickly search this city. If the Yono is well away from the area of our initial search and he has reason to believe he is being hunted, he will easily be able to avoid the search."

"Then torch the bloody city!" Fiske snapped at the man. "You must know the foe we are dealing with! Yes, hundreds may die, but more will perish; more will be condemned to hell if the Yono walks the Earth again!"

"And who are we to make this decision?" Sensei asked Fiske, his voice mild. "Do we have the right to inflict this harm? Even if this were to succeed, what then? A Japanese institution performing such an act in China will bring war!"

"Strange that you conveniently question your right to act when the task is difficult," Fiske pointed out. "You plucked the pretender out of school from half a world away and brought him here. You apparently manipulated a married couple to adopt the Han, without telling them of the dangers that came with her, yet now you question your right to counter The Yono."

"Perhaps I can help," another voice sounded, forestalling Sensei's angry outburst.

"We will gladly hear the counsel from Global Justice," the old man gratefully acknowledged Dr. Director.

"Those of us who hold high, governmental offices don't like to admit that mystic forces exist," she told those assembled. "But we like to show our hauteur by acknowledging that others; ignorant, misguided fools, do. With your permission, I will pass word to the Chinese that a cult believes that by disturbing the mausoleum, they will bring a supernatural power to bear against their enemies. Furthermore, I'll provide them with a full description of the creature that DNAmy created, give them the evidence we have of the Yakuza and Dark Forces smuggling the beast to Xi'an, and tell them that it is a potentially dangerous creature."

"All of this is true enough, if not the complete truth," Master Shinpi nodded. "But tell me, Dr. Director, do you find it painful to deal with us ignorant, misguided fools who believe in the supernatural?"

Master Sensei bit back a sharp rebuke. His subordinate masters had a range of opinions about his decisions to ally with Global Justice and to invite Dr. Director to selected meetings. While Sensei fully appreciated the strength and stability that tradition brought to his organization, he also realized that it could be a handicap. There was a need to step outside of tradition at times and not all those gathered here understood that. Masters Jinmon and Tsukiakari had a great deal of respect for both Dr. Director and the organization she operated. While Master Rekishi had a grudging respect for the woman, he couldn't quite believe that a westerner could appreciate history like an Asian could, and he couldn't get it through his head that Dr. Director wasn't simply marking time until she could find a husband and start having children. Master Shinpi, on the other hand, had a deep distrust and contempt for westerners, which he struggled; not very diligently, to conceal. A stereotypical Japanese man, he was capable of great offensiveness while disguising it as proper manners.

"I saw an alien invasion thrown back due to the Mystical Monkey Power," Dr. Director told the man. "I may not have believed before that, but when I see the supernatural in action, I believe."

Sensei noted that Fiske perked up at this statement. While Director's rebuke gave away part of a secret he had chosen to keep, it brought up other possibilities.

"The Mystical Monkey Power defeated this invasion I've heard about?" Fiske asked.

"That is not important at the moment," Master Tsukiakari silenced the Englishman. Sensei managed to avoid a smile; Tsukiakari was aware that young Stoppable had utilized the Mystical Monkey Power...and was aware that it wasn't common knowledge.

"What is important is Dr. Director's offer leaves us with the same issue," the master of spies continued. "If the Chinese Government begins a search of the city, will that not alert the Yono just as surely as if Yamanouchi were conducting the investigation?"

"Perhaps it is time to force the Yono to react," Master Jinmon pointed out. "We are waiting for the Yono to act, and allowing it the initiative is a script for failure." Looking up, and realizing that everyone present was paying rapt attention, he continued. "If we do nothing, if we allow the Yono to bide its time until it is ready to act, it will make sure that it will succeed before it acts. Even if we do not capture the Yono, we can at least disrupt its plans."

Sensei nodded, tugging on his mustache in what he hoped was a thoughtful gesture, showing that he was considering the Master of Strike's suggestion. In reality, they were all playing their parts. The role of the Master of Spies was to be cautious to the point that a dispassionate observer would wonder how he mustered the courage to step out of his door. The Master of Strikes' role was to be bold and willing to take risks that would make a Las Vegas gambler shudder. The role of Master Sensei was to carefully consider both extreme points of view and decide a course of action, usually somewhere between the two.

"We shall ask Dr. Director to pass the information to the Chinese Government," he decided. "However, we shall fabricate a story that suggests the smugglers who carried the creature spoke to those they were not supposed to. The Yakuza and Dark Forces organizations who employ these folks are perpetually suspicious of those who serve them, the Yono will most likely conclude that one or more footmen got drunk and decided to brag. Even if the Yono suspects that an organization such as ours is hunting him, we may be able to observe its reaction."

"Like a hunter watching the field as beaters stir the game," Master Jinmon nodded his approval.

"Indeed," Sensei noted. He quickly looked to Dr. Director, who nodded her agreement to leak the information.

"This brings up another question," Master Tsukiakari pointed out. "Or, more accurately, causes me to ask questions that have been asked before, but never answered. Why has the Yono not acted yet? Can we be sure that Xi'an is the Yono's destination? Just because we have not detected Dr. Hall's creature being moved from Xi'an doesn't mean that it hasn't successfully eluded us."

"I believe that I can confirm the Imperial Mausoleum as the final destination" Master Shinpi announced, although he gave Dr. Director and Fiske sidelong glances.

"Please share your wisdom," Sensei instructed him.

"Very well," the old man offered Sensei a slight bow. "I have concentrated my studies upon such power that a king, or an emperor can wield. There is power in a king's blood and a king's life. However, there is also great power in a king's tomb. Such power is most applicable to creating and maintaining seals. Emperor Qin Shi Huangdi did not die in his palace, he died in Pingyuanjin. There were no records of ceremonies or spells that he cast at the time of his death, so it is doubtful that he used his own life force to fuel a spell. However, there were many ceremonies and rituals involved with his interment, including the slaying of all who worked on the mausoleum. One of his sons and a general were also encouraged to commit suicide. It is my belief that the act of sealing the emperor's sepulcher was the final act of sealing the Yono in his hell. Further, it is my belief that slaying the workers who had labored upon the mausoleum, and the royal son, gave energy to this spell."

"So, what does this tell you about the Yono's actions?" Sensei asked.

"I believe that the spirit of the Yono will be capable of inhabiting the body that Dr. Hall created," Master Shinpi answered. "However, I do not believe that this creature will wield the full mystical might of the Yono. Yet, the Yono will not be subject to the restrictions placed upon it by a normal summoning; defeating its summoner will not send it back to hell. I fear that the goal of the Yono is to disturb the seal on the emperor's sepulcher. Once that is done, the Yono will be able to access its full might through that form."

There was silence around the table.

"This is troubling," Sensei admitted, breaking the quiet dread. "However, we still do not know why the Yono and its Yakuza allies have not acted."

"This, I cannot say," the Master of Mysteries admitted.

"Continue your research," Sensei instructed him. "This is now your highest priority."

"But what about my issue?" Fiske demanded. "You promised to assist me in removing my curse!"

Sensei gave him a hard look, but honor won out. "Very well," he sighed. "Master Shinpi, your primary goal is to determine when the Yono will move upon the mausoleum. However, should you find any information about how to release a mortal from an agreement with the Yono, you will inform Fiske. Also, make such resources you have that may be useful available to our _probationary student_."

"Of course, Master Sensei," the manor of Shinpi's bow told Sensei that while the Master of Mysteries would adhere to the letter of his instructions, he would find a way to warp the essence of the command. So be it! Fiske had played enough games of his own.

"So we are agreed upon a course of action," Sensei declared. "Is there anything else at this time?"

Silence answered him.

"Very well," he concluded. "We all have duties to attend to."

The assembled Yamanouchi all rose to their feet and offered slight bows before hurrying to their various tasks. Fiske also offered a slight bow, respecting the power that Sensei held over him more than he respected the man, before leaving for the exercise yard.

"Dr. Director," Sensei addressed his honored guest, before she could leave. "If an old man could request a bit more of your time, I would hear your counsel on a matter that is troubling me."

"Of course," she agreed, then stood as the last of the attendants left, leaving the two of them alone.

"I would like your opinion about Fiske," Sensei informed her, then led her back to the passage, where a spyhole in a statue allowed one to observe an exercise yard. Sensei knew that it would take Fiske several more minutes to change into appropriate apparel and join the session...in progress. However, he considered it important that his guest see this aspect of Fiske's behavior. For her part, Dr. Director didn't comment. She observed the goings-on for close to an hour, until such time that Sensei knew the training regimen to be finished. Her expression, when she stepped back from the spyhole, was unreadable.

"So, tell me your thoughts," the old man prompted her, even as he gestured for her to travel the mostly unseen paths that would take them back to his study.

"He is much more capable, physically," she noted. "I'm surprised that you let him wander your school without an escort."

"He is being watched at all times," Sensei assured her. "What else have you observed?"

"His attitude has changed, for certain people," she continued. "He showed courtesy to two of the students, even going so far as to assist them. He showed proper respect for the instructor...a certain tolerance...even though he is well beyond her ability. On the other hand, he scarcely acknowledged that the other students even existed."

"How about after the training session?" Sensei prompted. By now, they had reached his study and he ushered her inside.

"Most of the students tarried to talk with each other or even with the instructor," She answered. "Once the formal training had ended, the students were free to socialize just a bit. However, Fiske only spoke to the two who he had assisted. They seemed to debate something before coming to an agreement."

"The two have been assigned to him as teammates," Sensei explained. "Many of the privileges he enjoys are based upon the combined performance of all three. Also, the three of them are assigned tasks each day. Fiske is not allowed to study the archives until all three are finished with their tasks. He has learned that it is more efficient for all three of them to perform the tasks as a group than to each perform the duties simultaneously. Furthermore, division of labor requires him to learn the strengths and weaknesses of his teammates, hence their backgrounds. This has generated a certain familiarity between them."

Sensei had participated in innumerable meetings over his many years and this experience made him most impressed with Betty Director. Where another diplomat may have quickly come up with a shallow reply to his last statement, the Head of Global Justice sat in silence for a short time, more concerned with contemplating what she had just heard than with impressing him with her quick wit.

"So he is capable of realizing that it's better to work with people, when it's to his own benefit," Dr. Director finally said. "When he comes to this conclusion and actually works with such people, he is capable of developing a certain amount of affection towards them."

"That is my conclusion, as well," Sensei nodded.

"So the automatic question is, why are you putting in this effort?" Dr. Director asked.

"I believe that we will be in conflict with the Yono's agents at some point," Sensei told her. "In such a conflict, knowledge of the Yono will be as useful as physical force or numbers. I hope to not only teach Fiske that it is better for him to work with Yamanouchi than oppose us, but I hope that we can become more than allies of convenience. Allies meet their obligations; friends support each other."

"Do you think that Fiske can learn to be a friend?" Dr. Director's question wasn't a childish challenge of Sensei's actions, but an honest question. "He views even those he is close to as coworkers; those with whom he must work to get what he wants. He views strangers as either tools or obstacles, things to be used, avoided or eliminated on his way to his goals."

"He has far to go," Sensei admitted. "But he has actually made remarkable progress; yet he must make more before I am prepared to utilize him against the Yono. I wish to confer with you before I take a step I feel is necessary."

"And what step is this?"

"I wish to inform him how the Lowardians were defeated," Sensei told her. "Thanks to your outburst, he knows that the Mystical Monkey Power did so, so he will know that young Stoppable was involved in some manner."

"How will this rehabilitate him?"

"Changing someone's attitude is simple in concept," Sensei told her. "Although more difficult in practice. The subject must be made to see that an alternative attitude is more beneficial than his current one. The enlightened will try to show a subject the benefit of adopting the favored attitude, but we often fail to consider the brutal effectiveness of displaying the liabilities of maintaining the unfavorable."

Again, Dr. Director thought before speaking. "I still don't understand," she finally admitted.

"Fiske's goal is to become the Ultimate Monkey Master," he explained. "As he believes that this will give him full mastery of the Mystical Monkey Power. He believes that this will give him happiness and domination over all he wishes. While he does not seek global domination, he seeks domination of all he desires and sees the Mystical Monkey Power as a way of achieving this."

Yet again, Dr. Director considered this. "Power of the sort that Stoppable used to defeat the Lowardians seems like it could do this."

"Ah, but that is where he is mistaken," a slight smiled showed through the old man's mustache. "You have not spent years studying the Mystical Monkey Power, so you do not understand its nature. Fiske, on the other hand, has pursued it fanatically, so he should have grasped a simple concept that seems perpetually beyond him."

"Simple concept?"

"The Mystical Monkey Power is not a mindless force," Sensei told her. "It has a purpose and will not influence actions that do not support this purpose."

"So, Stoppable does not have control of this?" Dr. Director looked troubled by the implication.

"He has the ability to not wield the power," he answered. "When the power became available to him during the invasion, he willingly utilized it; first to rescue Miss Possible and then to defeat the invaders. Currently, he plays football but only the slightest tendril of the power is available to him while doing so, and it would appear that he does not utilize it."

"So how does this tie in with letting Fiske know that Stoppable repelled the Lowardians?" Director asked him. "It seems to me that knowing that the power is so overwhelming will make him want it even more."

"It very well might," Sensei agreed. "But I seek to point out that young Stoppable has access to the power specifically because he does not wish to utilize it. If Fiske is able to accept this; accept the fact that the Mystical Monkey Power is not like a yen to be spent as he wishes, it will take him much farther to the point at which I will trust him. If not; other steps will be needed."

"What sort of steps?"

"Painful lessons," Sensei sighed, then described the magma chamber ordeal he had subjected the Englishman to. "He is arrogant, so simply telling, even demonstrating does not always convince him. To educate him, I am forced to make him experience certain consequences."

"Very well," she nodded. "If letting Fiske know that Stoppable and the Mystical Monkey Power threw back the Lowardians, I agree to this." She offered a rare smile. "Besides, his pride probably won't let him admit that his rival did it and very few would believe him if he told them."

"My thanks," Sensei offered a slight bow. "Is there anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable? You are, of course, welcome to stay with us for as long as you like."

"I'd would like a bit of privacy for a few minutes," she told him. "I need to arrange the message to the Chinese Government and although we are allies, I'd like to keep some secrets."

"Of course," Sensei nodded his approval. "May I suggest a garden out of the west gate? It is usually deserted at this time of day and has a lovely waterfall, that plunges into a pool with tumultuous harmony. The sound of the waterfall makes it very, very difficult to be overheard."

Smiling her understanding, Dr. Director followed his directions and soon found herself in a peaceful, deserted garden. Or, it appeared to be deserted. This was a ninja school, so it was possible she was being observed; either due to Sensei's instructions, practice, or a curious student wanting to find out what the ally was doing. Stepping close to the waterfall, she pulled out her communicator and contacted her organization.

It took time. Discussing an operation as sensitive as passing on semi-truthful information to a major and suspicious tower was complicated enough. Doing so next to a waterfall was even more difficult. Halfway through the conversation, she realized that at least some of the Yamanouchi Ninja were probably capable of reading lips, so she held the communicator up in front of her face. All told, it took a couple of hours before she was confident that the proper people would say the proper things to the proper audience at the proper time.

Once finished, she noted that it was getting decidedly late in the day for a trip down the mountain. Dr. Director respected Yamanouchi's traditions; while she would not hesitate to summon a hoverjet if she needed to respond to an emergency, there was no emergency at this time. She had walked up the mountain to attend the earlier meeting and she would walk down the mountain again...but not in the dark. Instead, she decided to take advantage of the hospitality that Yamanouchi offered; and to display to the ancient institution the advantages of associating with her and her organization.

First, she joined an advanced fighting class, where she both learned and taught some hard lessons. Yamanouchi concentrated on hand-to-hand fighting as well as weapons that could be easily concealed or carried without drawing attention. Global Justice concentrated on high-tech non lethal weapons that did not draw attention to the agent. The conflicting styles and equipment created difficult but stimulating scenarios, resulting in Dr. Director inflicting and receiving numerous bruises. One of her most capable opponents was a young woman who utilized a set of fighting fans. Still, at the end, both Dr. Director and the Yamanouchi in attendance were more capable.

After the physical training came a lecture on how Global Justice strove to work with various national law enforcement agencies and coordinate efforts to combat villains that were outside said agencies' ability to combat. It was a two way discussion, that quickly turned into a discussion about when an outside agency had the right to disregard national borders in the defense of others. This discussion turned into Dr. Director describing the restrictions placed upon Global Justice to insure that intervention was in the international interest before authorization for action could be given. The same young woman with the fans approached her after the class was over.

"Dr. Director," she asked. "May I trouble you with more questions, those that may be out of place for a full classroom?"

"Of course," Dr. Director replied. "Is it Miss..."

"My name is Yori Tanaka," the younger woman replied. "If I may be so bold, I find the western method of address as considerate as the use of Japanese honorifics."

"I'll be happy to answer your questions, Miss Tanaka."

"I seek to understand Global Justice's views on why they perform this service," Yori told her. "You have explained the limitations placed upon your organization; when you find it justified to act, yet you have not explained why you act."

"I'd think that the motivation would be obvious," Dr. Director allowed a bit of indignity to sound in her voice. "It's the right thing to do."

"But what makes it right?" Yori asked.

"All people have the right to self-determination," she answered, although she was getting the impression that this young woman was digging for some deeper information. "The goal of Global Justice is to prevent supervillains from denying this."

"And the purpose of the elaborate protocols that must be met before you can act?" Yori prompted.

"Are to ensure that we do not become what we are fighting," Dr. Director told her.

For a moment, a ghost of a smile flickered across the ninja's face. "And those who serve you in this endeavor, do they understand the cause?"

"Everyone is educated," Dr. Director answered. "But to be honest, most don't care. They have their assignments, know the limits of their authority and do the best to complete their missions."

"These agents, do they swear oaths for life to your organization?"

"No," Dr. Director looked at her sharply. "All who accept a position within my organization are free to leave at any time. The only lifetime oath is to not reveal sensitive information about the organization."

"And your agents; your employees," Yori continued. "Do you require them to perform acts that they find repugnant?"

Dr. Director was no fool. She could spot a young woman who wasn't happy with her current situation, even if the subject wasn't aware of it. Was Yori a test? Was she playing a part, so Sensei would be able to determine if his ally was trustworthy? Or was she what she appeared to be? Dr. Director decided that honesty was the safest course.

"Conducting our operations requires harsh actions," she admitted to the younger woman. "The criminals we combat don't give up because they're found out, so violence is often required. Placing agents in a position to gain intelligence can require...morally difficult...decisions. All agents are expected to be skilled combatants but the...other actions...are only done on a volunteer basis. All of our agents receive regular mental health screenings. Should our mental health professionals detect issues, those agents are removed from the duties that are causing the problems." She had a sudden moment of inspiration; possibly understanding what was troubling the ninja. "I do not have the authority to harm the emotional well-being of my agents, even if they volunteer to perform missions they find objectionable."

Another flicker of emotion ghosted over Yori's face; the emotion of a man dying of thirst who suddenly had a glass of water within reach. Yet, the young ninja proved to be disciplined and quickly took on the polite, yet curious demeanor she had been displaying.

"My thanks, Dr. Director," she offered a slight bow. "It is good to hear how other organizations operate, to compare them with the life I know."

"Perhaps you could learn more," Dr. Director decided to take a chance. She produced a business card and offered it to Yori in the traditional Japanese way; with both hands and a bow. "I do not know your customs but if you find yourself outside the walls of Yamanouchi and wishing to speak again, contact me."

"My thanks," Yori took the card and secreted it somewhere in her clothing. She showed no sign of being insulted, which could have been because she wasn't insulted by the implied offer or because she simply didn't show the offense. "Should the opportunity arise, I look forward to conversing again."

The younger woman bowed again and left. Feeling satisfied with herself, Dr. Director left the lecture hall to see that it was already evening outside. On her way to her quarters, she noted Fiske exiting the archives, a look on his face that could have probably shattered a mirror. Looking neither left nor right, he stalked off in the direction of the exercise yard. On a whim, Dr. Director followed him.

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"Fiske, you are summoned to Master Sensei's study."

The Englishman looked up from the wall he was painting. Upon finishing his morning exercises, he and his roommates had received their duties for the day before breakfast. As had become their habit, they planned the most efficient way of getting all three tasks done before taking their meal, and they were now almost finished.

He had also discarded his expectations to be addressed as Lord Fiske and he had become grateful that students of Yamanouchi did not bother using honorifics when addressing each other. He was certain that some of the honorifics directed his way would be less than complimentary.

"Is this summoning to be immediate, or when I am done with my duties?" He asked the young woman who had come to fetch him.

"At your earliest convenience," the student informed him. "And considering that the convenience of all within Yamanouchi is dictated by Master Sensei's instructions, your earliest convenience will be right now."

Fiske felt a ghost of a smile flicker across his face at the humor, yet he couldn't help but feel guilty about leaving his companions to finish the tasks on their own.

"Don't worry," Wah told him. Since the three worked closely with each other, the younger man could guess what he was thinking about. "We're almost done. Even with just the two of us, we'll be able to finish and clean up within the hour."

Despite the fact that Sensei had requested to see him immediately, one didn't meet with someone of Sensei's authority while sweaty and spattered with paint, so he took a few minutes to clean up just a little. Very shortly, he was somewhat presentable and waiting for the student to usher him into the study.

"Ah, Fiske," the old man greeted him, when he walked through the thin doors.

"Master Sensei," Fiske offered a slight bow, again acknowledging the old man's authority. He refused to state that Sensei had summoned him; as he was perfectly aware of this. A quick flicker of humor and approval flashed across the ancient, concealed face before Sensei became deadly serious.

"There is something you must see," the older man told the younger. "Please be seated."

Curious and more than a little nervous, Fiske settled onto the mat Sensei had indicated and watched as he slid a curtain aside to reveal a flat screen. From one of his sleeves, the elderly ninja produced a remote and activated it, stepping to one side so that he could observe Fiske's reaction.

As much as Fiske had spent the last several years of his life dedicated to archaeology, Tai Shen Pek Kwar and obtaining the Mystical Monkey Power, he had been exposed to some elements of popular culture. Thus, he not only recognized the American rules football game, he had a basic understanding. He also recognized that this was neither a professional game nor a major college game. Although he wasn't a fan of the sport, he trusted that the relic wouldn't allow him to sit in a comfortable study unless some sort of lesson were to be conveyed, so he paid attention. Soon, one of the smaller players took the ball, demonstrated impressive speed and agility, and managed to score. The camera focused on the player as he trotted off of the field, causing Fiske to catch his breath when he saw the name on the back of his jersey.

While Fiske was able to stifle his outraged snarl, he couldn't help but shift his glance to Sensei. The old man was focused upon him, more interested in seeing his reactions than in observing the game. Mastering himself, he returned his attention to the screen and observed the game. It didn't take long, as Sensei had deleted those portions of the game where Stoppable wasn't on the field. Fiske didn't watch the game so much as he observed the pretender, his ire growing by the minute. Finally, the screen went dark.

"I assume that there is some great lesson for me to learn from this," Fiske commented to the old man. "But I admit that I don't know what it is."

"You are correct," Sensei told him. "Because you do not know something vital. I noted your interest when Dr. Director let it be known that the Mystical Monkey Power had defeated the Lowardians."

"I had heard that it was Dr. Drakken's invention," Fiske answered. "Although nobody challenged Director's claim."

"It is because hers is the truth," Sensei told him. "It was the Mystical Monkey Power, wielded by young Stoppable, that destroyed the Lowardian invasion."

"Impossible!" Fiske roared. "He's but an imbecile, he has no ambition, no discipline! His only desires are to laze about and pursue the cheerleader!"

"Yet, he managed to best you more than once," Sensei pointed out. "And do you deny your own eyes? Do the athletic abilities you saw belong to a lazy man?"

"Bah!" Fiske snorted. "He stumbled upon the Mystical Monkey Power and now uses it to excel at football! Is this the honorable cause that you claim? You tell me I'm unworthy to wield it, yet your _chosen one_ uses it to carry a ball in a game!"

"Then let me point out that he is not using this power to play the game," Sensei countered. "The Mystical Monkey Power chose him, and not to play football. The Mystical Monkey Power chose him because he was reluctant to use it. A reluctance mean that he will only use it in times of dire need, which means the chances of it being misused are minimal.'

"And who is deciding that he is worthy?" Fiske demanded. "You? Some other master on some other mountain?"

"The Mystical Monkey Power itself, you fool!" Sensei had finally been goaded into showing his temper. "How many times do I have to tell you this before you will look at the evidence in front of you?"

"What evidence?"

"What you have experienced and done!" Sensei told him. "Consider your pursuit of the power. When you recovered the first jade statue, why did you suddenly become obsessed with obtaining all of them. Had you not been content with your life and estate prior to this? The Mystical Monkey Power manipulated you into seeking it!"

"Ultimate power had suddenly been placed within my grasp," Fiske countered. "So of course my horizons opened."

"Then came the time for you to recover the final statue," Sensei continued. "Yes, the ruined temple was difficult and dangerous to access, but had you ever been deterred by such obstacles before? Perhaps a few days of work, in secret, and you would have had the fourth statue with no publicity! Instead, you contacted a very well-known heroine to assist you. Then, you stole it when and where she could observe you! The Mystical Monkey Power, through the first three statues, had taken your measure and found you wanting. It manipulated you into first summoning a hero and then committing a theft where she would react."

"I'll admit to showing poor judgment," Fiske retorted. "After years of effort, I became impatient and committed a string of foolish acts."

"Then at your mansion," Sensei bored in, relentlessly. "You had young Stoppable at your mercy and you paused...because it was tea-time!"

"Most stereotypes have a basis in reality," Fiske grumbled, now looking chagrined. "We British love our tea and we love it on time. Don't you know that the British military installs tea-brewing equipment in its fighting vehicles?"

"And you succumbed to this temptation at this particular time?" Sensei's expression was half disbelieving and have humorous.

"It had been a most stressful week."

Sensei simply gazed at him.

"This debate is pointless!" Fiske broke the silence. "At this time, what difference does it make if the Mystical Monkey Power is a primal force, or if it is some sort of sentient phenomenon like you are trying to manipulate me into believing? We face the Yono! Surely you will want to access every asset at your disposal! If Stoppable has become the Ultimate Monkey Master, use your influence over him and send him to face the Yono! Even if your delusions are real, won't the power rise to fight it?"

"You trouble me," Sensei admitted. "Even in your arrogance and ignorance, you make points with a sliver of validity."

"So you'll call Stoppable to Xi'an?"

"Perhaps," Sensei told him. "For now, I have another task for you, while you go about your duties, contemplate your actions and decisions when you quested for the jade statues and tell me that no outside hand affected them."

"So, you ask me to prove a negative, something that isn't possible," Fiske sneered. "Yet, I'll do so, knowing that I put thoughts into the head of the great, Master Sensei."

"You continue to be impudent and disrespectful," Sensei sighed. "But I cannot deny your words. You may go."

Fiske bowed himself out of the study, again acknowledging Sensei's power rather than his respect for the man. However, Sensei paid scant attention, troubled by the thought that there was a nugget of wisdom in Fiske's ravings. He contemplated, he meditated, and he prayed for the wisdom of his predecessors to light the dim path he considered. Finally, as he knew it would, it fell to him to make a decision. With a heavy heart, he made a note and passed it to his assistant. In the morning, Yori would report to him and, being the obedient daughter of Yamanouchi, would follow his instructions. He sighed, knowing what he would eventually ask of her.

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The rest of the day didn't go well for Montgomery Fiske. Although his roommates had finished their tasks in well under the time their overseers had allotted them, he took no pleasure and saw no real progress in his efforts. He was honest enough to admit that some of it was his own doing; his continued scorn towards Yamanouchi meant that Master Rekishi followed the letter of Sensei's instructions but not the spirit. While he had given Fiske access to materials to study the Yono, he didn't share his own knowledge, nor did he assist with his vastly superior skills at translating the ancient texts. As such, he was forced to spend hours to glean a little knowledge when, had he held his tongue during the meeting, the old Yamanouchi would have helped him gain such lore in a fraction of the time. When Rekishi chased him out of the archives (the Yamanouchi didn't trust him enough to give him unsupervised access) he was more than frustrated.

He met up with his Wah and Sung, so that the three of them could attend first evening exercises and then take their evening meal together. As much as he wanted to consider the two young men's presence a distraction, he realized that it was a welcome distraction. While he had come to grips with the idea that his troubles were of his own making, the idea that they had been caused in pursuit of something that would have never paid off was preposterous! He was the worthy Ultimate Monkey Master and he would gain what he had labored so hard to obtain...no matter the cost to himself or those around him.

He wasn't a good conversationalist during the meal and he was certain that he wouldn't be good company for his companions, so he took his leave from them after the meal was over and made his way back to the archives. Master Rekishi didn't seem to have a life outside of his duties, so it wasn't surprising to find the Yamanouchi man there after dining. While Fiske made his best effort at an apology for his previous behavior, he wasn't able to overcome his disquiet enough to convey honest contrition.

Master Rekishi allowed him access to the tomes for a couple of hours, but still refused to assist him.

When the old man chased him out for the night, Fiske realized that he would be unable to slumber and that his disquiet would only keep the two younger men awake. Instead of tossing, turning, and denying his charges their slumber, he went to the exercise yard and performed kata, hoping that the physical activity would bring him a certain serendipity, as it had in the past. Yet, the very act of performing the Tai Shen Pek Kwar exercises made his disquiet grow.

"You work hard all day," a voice announced from the entryway. Fiske spun to see Dr. Director.

"In addition to the time you devote to your personal studies and your efforts to assist your two charges." She continued. "You should be exhausted and asleep at this time."

"As should you," Fiske pointed out, feeling strangely not irritated at the intrusion.

"Jet lag," she explained. "What's your reason?"

"My reasons are my own," he told her.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged. "But I've learned to spot a man who could use an impartial ear. I'm the only one within miles that's an ally of Yamanouchi, not a member. I'm about as impartial as you're going to get."

Fiske looked at her, allowing a disbelieving expression to take up residence on his face.

"And I'd like to take your measure," she admitted. "We're not friends, but we're working towards similar goals."

"I'm troubled," Fiske told her. For some reason, he felt ready to talk...to a certain extent. "Dr. Director, you have undoubtedly invested a great deal of effort in your organization. Not only that, you have certainly sacrificed in the name of your ambition."

Dr. Director first shrugged, then nodded.

"Have you ever wondered if the effort and sacrifice were worth it?" He asked.

"I used to," she answered. "I've come to see the good that Global Justice has done."

"But there are still supervillains in the world," he countered. "No matter how hard you work, how much you deny yourself so that you can devote your efforts to your organization, you will never eliminate them all. Not only that, but eventually another will come to take your place. After you invested all of the work, all of the time, and denied yourself so much, someone else will have your position. What if you don't care for that person?"

"I have to remember that the agency was never mine in the first place," she told him, although she flinched at the idea of Will Du running it.

"Perhaps," he sighed. "But you will at least have some say in whomever becomes the new Director. What if you had no say? What if you were to find out, right now, that one who had never worked his way up through the ranks, one who had never put in a fraction of the effort nor made a fraction of the sacrifices you have, were to take your place? How would you respond?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "The thought of Global Justice falling under the control of someone..."

"Unworthy," he supplied.

"Unworthy," she agreed, then her eye flew open wide, as she understood what he was talking about.

"On the other hand, what if you were not in command," he continued. He had been looking up into the cold, winter sky and had not seen her sudden moment of understanding. "What if you learned that you would never become the Director, even though you were better qualified and had put in much greater efforts than the current director. What if you were to find out that the rewards for your efforts would always go to someone else?"

"I'd say that anyone who thought being the Director of Global Justice was a reward was an idiot," she quipped. "The responsibilities and the nearly daily butt-chewings from some head-of-state, somewhere are bad enough. The worst part is the fact that you're called up at any time. Whenever a great crisis comes up, you have to answer, no matter your personal feelings or the cost, YOU have to deal with it." She heaved a massive sigh. "Be careful what you wish for, Fiske, you might just get it."

Instead of a sneer, an angry outburst, or a disgusted snort, Fiske looked thoughtful.

"This is an odd night," he finally confessed. "While I don't believe certain news I have just heard, I'm forced to consider the possibility that the last few years of my life; or perhaps I should say my previous life, have been wasted. I don't believe this, but I'm forced to question if my disbelief is because the situation is unbelievable or if I'm being too stubborn to see what is in front of my face."

"Facing unpleasant truths is never easy," she told him. For some reason, it seemed that her statement would be more effective is she placed a hand on his shoulder. For some other reason, he didn't shrug the hand off. "I can only tell you that it's never too late to turn your back on self-destructive behavior. It's never too late to forge a new path."

"In my case, it probably is," Fiske allowed a smile of bitter humor to flash across his face. "And I've not yet become convinced that my actions were futile. Still, your optimism is refreshing."

"It isn't misplaced," she insisted.

"Perhaps," he sighed.

"Fiske," she addressed him.

"You are not Yamanouchi," he interrupted. "Perhaps you could call me Montgomery, or even Monty."

"Very well, Monty," she continued. "Should the time come that you find some of your past actions were horrid, should you wish to plot a new life, contact me."

"Dr. Director..."

"Betty," she interrupted.

"Very well, Betty," he now smiled back. "If I'm not too bold to say, could I say that I look forward to our next conversation, no matter the reason?"

"It's not too bold at all," she removed her hand, reluctantly, from his shoulder.

From a nearby rooftop, dark eyes watched as the two faced each other for another minute before turning, awkwardly and regretfully, away. As they walked away, both paused and looked back to the other, although neither saw the other doing so. Finally, they were out of line of sight with each other and the hidden watcher was left to wonder at what she had seen.

* * *

 _A/N: As always, big thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading._


	9. Chapter 9

"Ron."

The whisper cut through the layers of contented slumber for only a moment before the warm, soft cocoon returned him to sleep.

"Ron!"

The whisper was louder, more insistent. He opened his eyes but saw nothing out of the ordinary and let them close again.

"RON!"

This time, the familiar voice was most insistent and accompanied by a gentle but firm elbow to his ribs. He opened his eyes again and realized that the last time he had opened them, he had seen nothing out of the ordinary because he had seen nothing at all in the dimly lit cabin. Clearly, his companion wanted him to communicate with her.

"Huh? Wha?" Not exactly eloquent, but about the best he could do at this moment.

"Your phone," Kim grumbled at him.

The buzzing sound, which he only now realized had been punctuating Kim's efforts to wake him up, sounded again.

There were a lot of good things about being friends with Wade; one of them was the very sleek wristwatch with a built in phone. Unfortunately, the compact design wasn't very helpful for him when he was half asleep and groping for it on an unfamiliar nightstand. The phone rang twice more, both times punctuated with a prod from KP, before he found it. Once he saw who was calling him, he was wide awake.

Hitting the answer button, he extracted himself from the bed and lurched to the bathroom by the subdued light the smoldering fire provided. He couldn't see how this could work out well; he had just had one of the best days of his life, so the world was going to have to do something to make him pay for it. Reaching the bathroom, he closed the door, turned on the light and hit the button to allow the screen and camera to activate.

"Stoppable-san," the familiar voice addressed him from the small device. "My apologies if I disturbed your rest."

"It's okay," he grumbled. "I wasn't asleep; I had to get up and answer the phone."

"I do not understand," Yori's response was delayed. Despite Wade's skills, the signal had to bounce off of a satellite or two.

"I'm trying to make a joke," Ron told her. "It's three thirty in the morning, so it wasn't a very good try."

"My apologies," she repeated. "But an issue has come up that requires your attention."

"I sort of figured that one out," he answered. "What's up?"

"Master Sensei suspects that another crisis will occur which will require the Mystical Monkey Power to resolve."

"I thought that was all done!" Ron protested. "We dealt with the Yono and we dealt with the Lowardians! We were supposed to get on with our lives...you know, have a happily ever after in the world that we saved!"

"Stoppable-san, the Yono is eternal," Yori corrected, once she had heard his rant. "Defeating him once does not mean that he is forever gone! The Lowardians who attacked are no more, but the planet that they came from remains. Master Sensei does not seek to set you against another threat to the world; he wishes to test how the Mystical Monkey Power responds to threats."

"So, I'll wind up calling on it again," Ron couldn't help but flinch.

"I did not realize that it caused you pain," Yori apologized.

"It doesn't," he grumbled. "It causes something a lot worse."

"What is that?" Yori asked.

"Knowing you're unstoppable," Ron sighed. "Trust me, invincibility isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"But our need is most urgent," Yori protested.

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll have Wade set us up for a trip to Japan."

"Master Sensei requests that only you come," she interrupted. "He says that the presence of anyone else; Rufus or Kim Possible, could alter the results."

"What!" He protested, then regained his temper. "Fine, but it's semester break! I'm supposed to spend this time with family!"

"Master Sensei assures me that it will take only a couple of days," Yori told him. "You will spend two nights here and we will send you back to Colorado on the third."

"Fine," he heaved another sigh. "I'll get Wade to throw something together."

"With your permission, I have already made arrangements for your transportation."

"What!" He glared into the camera. "You knew I'd agree to this?"

"My friend, some people are born to play certain roles," she told him, a sad expression behind her smile. "When someone asks you for assistance, you render it. It is simply your nature. A courier aircraft will be awaiting you this afternoon at the Upperton Airport."

"So, I guess I'll be seeing you in person before too much longer," he told her.

"I look forward to seeing you again," she assured him, her smile now genuine. "Even though the circumstances may not be pleasant."

The screen went blank and Ron took a couple of deep breaths. This wasn't going to be pleasant. As he expected, Kim was awake and watching him when he left the bathroom. She didn't ask who called or what it was about; any call at that time of the night wasn't going to be good. She just watched as he put a log in the fireplace and took a seat on the bed. Why did this have to come up now, when things were looking up?

They had finally finished the fall semester and had decided to have a little fun on the way home. They had finished their classes on Wednesday and since the Upperton Mountain Resort Cabins weren't exactly swamped during the week, they had managed to get a couple of nights at a reasonable rate. Not only that, the ski areas were less crowded on weekdays, so the skiing had been great, all culminating in yesterday afternoon. Ron looked at Kim as she continued to wait for him to speak. The ring that he had offered her yesterday, and she had accepted, still shone from her finger.

"That was Yamanouchi," Ron finally told her.

"Yori?" She asked.

Ron flinched inside. As much as Kim liked Yori, she didn't like the idea of her being anywhere near him when she wasn't around. Ron could understand; as much as he trusted his girlfr...fiance, he wouldn't like her and Josh being around each other by themselves.

"Yes," he told her. "Passing on a message from Sensei." He outlined the conversation.

"And you're not supposed to bring me or Rufus along," she stated.

"You can come along to Japan," he offered. "But Yamanouchi is invitation only."

"No," she shook her head, looking embarrassed. "Yori isn't about to lie about something like this, so I'm not going to head to Japan just to wait for you to do...whatever it is you have to do. I was looking forward to getting the fams together to show them the rock."

"We can have the fam time when I get back," he suggested. "It's only going to be for a couple of days. Besides, if Sensei learns more, maybe I can get rid of this."

"Do you really want to get rid of your Mystical Monkey Power?"

"If it means things like this, yes." He waved vaguely towards the west. "We're busy enough with school and taking the occasional mission. We don't need me being dragged off to deal with the latest mystic crisis. We're going to be even busier when we get out of school."

"Very busy," she agreed. She patted the bed next to her. Not needing any encouragement, he took his place and she cuddled in close.

"We're going to have careers, a home," she pointed out. "And we're going to have children."

"I thought we'd wait a little on them," he confessed.

"We will, she agreed. "But not too long. How many do you want?"

"Well, since you're the one who has to produce them, I was going to leave it up to you."

"I asked first," she gave him a mock pout. "How many kids do you want?"

"I was thinking two," he told her.

"I want three."

"Oh, hoping for twins?"

"We can talk about it when the time comes," she gave him a ' _very funny'_ look with her remark. "But a lot of it is going to depend on what we run into in the future."

"At least we'll be together for it."

* * *

Yori shut down the computer in Yamanouchi's communication center and left the building. Early morning in Denver was early evening at her location, so many of the Yamanouchi were lining up for their evening meals. However, Master Sensei had asked her to dine with him that night.

Upon being ushered into his study, she noted that the fountains along the walls were running. Further observation told her that the meal prepared was for two people.

"Ah, Yori-chan," the master emerged from deeper inside of his personal quarters. "So kind of you to prevent an old man from dining alone. At my age, solitude can be equally parts peaceful and depressing."

"The honor is mine, master," Yori bowed to the man. "Will you give me the honor of serving you?"

"I fear it wouldn't be an honor," he smiled. "As you are a guest, not my subordinate. However, the food is good and is better when eaten hot, so shall we dine?"

Guest that she was, Yori was not about to forget her manners. She waited while the old man seated himself and wouldn't touch her food until he had begun to dine. Neither did she drop her vigilance; Master Sensei may appear as a kindly, elderly man and in may ways, he was. However, he was also a ninja, which meant that he was most accomplished at putting people at ease before setting a trap; whether the trap was verbal, physical or emotional.

Sensei started the conversation, beginning with her recent studies and progress and continuing on to her recent missions. He glossed over her being able to observe Hirotaka while discussing her actions and results during the missions. As per his usual methods, he asked her how she could perform her missions more efficiently, covertly or completely. It was an exercise that Yori had done many times before and she wondered if he were doing so to set her at ease or delve a deeper truth.

"Although you have recently performed a mentally trying task," Sensei finally announced. "There is another, one that I fear you are the most capable to perform."

 _And now we know the purpose of this meeting._ "As always, I am prepared to perform my duty to Yamanouchi," she answered.

"Excellent. When young Stoppable arrives in Tokyo, he will need someone to guide him back to Yamanouchi."

 _This can't be all of it._ "Of course, master. Such a task will be enjoyable."

"Yori, there is something more that will happen to him."

 _Here we go._

"Yori-chan, you have been a most promising student and in a way, that may be a problem," Sensei told her. "You have maintained your ideals of right and wrong, of consideration to others, to a degree that most your age and most that are younger have been unable to. Yet, this zeal is your handicap as well as your strength. I have many duties and for some of these duties, the consequences for failure are unfathomable. For this reason, I must use every tool at my disposal to accomplish my goals and that includes deceiving those whom I cherish."

Yori only looked at him.

"I fear that my actions may...leave young Stoppable feeling betrayed."

"Will Stoppable-san be correct in his belief?"

"Perhaps," he sighed. "I instructed you to tell him that I needed to test aspects of the Mystical Monkey Power, but the testing my prove to be most unpleasant for him."

Yori couldn't prevent a shallow gasp, nor the widening of her eyes. She managed to keep from blurting out a demand to know how the testing was to be done.

"You will meet him and bring him here," Sensei informed her. By his look, Yori knew that he had noted her reaction as well as the reaction she had managed to contain. "Quarters are being prepared at this time. You will then observe his testing. When it is done, he may feel betrayed and you will be there to console him."

Again, Yori felt her eyes fly open and she looked hard at her Sensei. From his steady look, she knew that there would be no limits on the consolation she would offer her friend.

* * *

"Okay, if we're in such a hurry, why couldn't I parachute in, like I did last time?" Ron fixed his guide with a questioning eye.

"Stoppable-san, it will be, of course, our honor to walk." Yori was able to force a smile, as his question was just that, a question about the time involved as opposed to a complaint about the walk itself.

Ron simply hoisted his pack onto his back (he was smart enough to not bring suitcases this time) and wait for her. She smiled a grin that he had last seen in the Amazon Rain Forest.

"Don't tell me," he shook his head. "It will be my honor to go first?"

Yori simply nodded. Ron heaved a sigh and started up the faint trail, fairly certain that she would tell him if he wandered too far astray. For several minutes, they climbed higher and higher, leaving the bus stop well behind them. Looking back down the mountain, he felt they were far enough away from civilization, and inadvertent ears, for him to ask some questions.

"So tell me," he began. "Just what is so vital that I had to drop everything and catch a flight here? KP and I hadn't even made it back to Middleton when you contacted me." He shook his head. "We hadn't even had a chance to give the 'rents the big news."

"Big news?" Yori asked.

Ron thought for a moment, then decided if he couldn't trust a ninja to keep her mouth shut for a few days, he couldn't trust anyone. Besides, maybe it was best to get this out in the open, right away.

"Before returning home for semester break, I asked Kim to marry me," he told the young woman who at one time had...some sort...of attraction to him. "She said yes."

"Then congratulations are in order for the both of you," Ron couldn't see it, but Yori's smile was even more forced. "When are you going to, as you say in your country, tie the knot?"

"Once we're out of college," Ron answered. "But enough about me. What's come up that I had to make the trip so soon?" Ron looked over his shoulder at her, clearly not happy. "I didn't even have the chance to spend time with my little sister, my 'rents or Rufus before I had to be on the plane."

"Master Sensei does not confide all in me," Yori admitted. "Yet he states that he must learn more about the Mystical Monkey Power, and how it can be utilized both to strike an adversary and to defend."

"And he couldn't warn me about this ahead of time?" Ron growled. "This seems more than a little sudden."

"Ron," Yori dropped even the pretense of using honorifics. "There is something you are not telling about your final confrontation with the Lowardians. I don't know what happened, but speculation still runs its course through Yamanouchi. You were more that just the bait that brought the machines within range of Drakken's modified plants, were you not?"

"Some things shouldn't be discussed," Ron's shoulders slumped. "Even to a trustworthy ninja." He suddenly got a confused look on his face. "Isn't that quite the concept, and trustworthy ninja? It almost sounds like a vegetarian vampire."

"One thing Master Sensei has confided in me," Yori chuckled at his back, reflecting that in some ways, her American friend hadn't changed. "Yamanouchi and Global Justice have formed an alliance. Through Dr. Director, Master Sensei has learned that you are having nightmares about the Lowardian invasion."

"Who all knows?" Ron demanded, spinning around and stopping.

"I do not know," she admitted. She had never seen Ron so angry. "Sensei has told me but I don't know if he has spoken to anyone else. Does it matter?"

"It was supposed to be private," Ron grumbled, turning around and resuming the climb.

"The fact that you are having these nightmares suggests that you did more than just lure the Lowardians and their machines to where they could be defeated," Yori pointed out.

" _That's_ why it was supposed to be private," Ron countered. "Yori, you're just too smart and I don't want anyone adding things up. I don't want to talk about it and I don't want anyone else to know about it."

"I will not betray your trust," she assured him. "As they say in your homeland, my lips are sealed."

"Okay, is there anything else I should know before we get to the school?" He asked.

"Master Sensei will explain everything," she told him.

Again, he stopped and turned to face her, an irritated scowl on his face.

"But there are other things I could tell you," she admitted. "After your trial tomorrow and perhaps the next day, you should be more inclined to accept the Mystical Monkey Power."

"Trial?" His eyebrow quirked up. "You said that I was to test the Mystical Monkey Power, now I have to face a trial? That sounds considerably more painful than what I was led to believe."

"You shall test the power by facing a trial," she explained.

"Isn't it a little convenient that you waited until after I crossed an ocean before bringing up this little...but very significant...detail?" He turned and stalked up the trail again.

Yori allowed a small frown, her true emotion, to flicker across her face before following him.

"Your trial will not be made easier with negative thoughts," she told him. "Perhaps you would like to explain how the years have been treating you since last we met in person?"

Ron tensed for a moment before allowing his irritation to flow away. He spoke of classes and football, of sparing with KP and working out in the dojo. He spoke of Hana getting older and more adorable, as well as how much he missed Rufus when he was at college.

Yori spoke of her own growth; of how she was spending more time outside the school, blending into Japanese society. She spoke of two infiltration jobs she had performed, in order to 'persuade' local Yakuza bosses to not bother Yamanouchi agents, as well as one where she intimidated a street-gang leader.

The talk, and the pristine, open mountains washed most of the anger from Ron's mind. He was here, he would do whatever Yamanouchi asked of him, then he would return home to enjoy the majority of his semester break with friends, family and fiance. He wasn't even breathing heavily when they reached the waterfall and passed through, to look again upon Yamanouchi.

Seeing the school relaxed him even further, somehow assuring him that he would be equal to whatever trials he faced. He allowed Yori to take the lead, showing him to where he was to go. To his surprise, she led him along the wall, rather than through the main gate. The entrance she ushered him through led to quarters reserved for masters, senior students and high ranking visitors. He quirked an eye at his escort, as she showed him to almost luxurious quarters.

"You are now both a champion and respected guest of Yamanouchi," she told him. "Your quarters reflect this."

"There's more to it than that," he countered, pulling the few possessions he had brought from his pack and putting them away. "But let's not worry about that now."

"Please get dressed," Yori told him, gesturing towards a training gi on the sleeping mat. "And meet me outside. Master Sensei wishes to speak to you upon your arrival.

Ron took the opportunity to quickly rinse off before joining Yori. She ushered him through the school grounds and to Master Sensei's quarters. Ron wasn't so put off by his sudden trip that he failed to show the proper courtesies; an action that the old man seemed to appreciate.

"Mr. Stoppable," he began, choosing not to use honorifics for his guest's comfort. "Please be seated."

Ron waited until the old man sat, which brought a smile to the master's face.

"You are undoubtedly wondering what prompted me to ask you here on such short notice."

Rather than answer, Ron simply nodded.

"We have a need," the old man sighed. "The need became clear to me only recently. Please allow an old man some mystery. Let me say that on the morrow, you will complete the task I require, and help yourself in so doing. On either the day after tomorrow, or the day after that, you will return home a better man."

"I confess that I find myself upset that I had no more warning," Ron admitted. "And I'm still confused about what I am to do."

"Should you still be confused after tomorrow, I will explain all before you leave," the old man assured him. "I shall call upon you at dawn tomorrow. For now, prepare yourself. Yori will see to any need you may have."

Ron knew both that he had been dismissed, and that he would receive no further information. He bowed his way out of the master's study to find Yori waiting for him.

"How may I assist you, Stoppable-San?" Clearly, Yori felt more comfortable using honorifics when on school grounds.

"Jet-lag's going to be rough," Ron told her. "How about some sparring to leave me exhausted and ready to sleep?"

"That I can accomplish, my friend," she smiled at him.

To Ron's surprise, she led him back towards the more exclusive areas of Yamanouchi, rather than to one of the exercise yards he had practiced in before. Apparently, the 'power players' at Yamanouchi had their own exercise area. After some initial stretching and warm-ups, Yori called him forward to spar.

Ron didn't know if it was his proximity to the Lotus Blade, the fact that the Yamanouchi School was dedicated to Tai Shing Pek Kwar, or something else, but he seemed to have greater mastery of his martial arts while at Yamanouchi. Yori drilled him hard for two hours and Ron proved slightly better than the ninja...or perhaps she was holding back to stoke his ego, he couldn't tell. Finally, the two exchanged formal bows and she instructed him to clean up and await her by his quarters. He returned to his quarters to find that a formal set of robes had been set out for him. He had his own, small bathing pool so he cleaned himself completely before donning the expensive-looking garb. When he stepped outside it was completely dark and Yori, also wearing formal garb, was waiting for him.

She took up a lantern and led him back to Master Sensei's quarters, where the elderly master treated them to a fine dinner. Although he was the soul of courtesy, he would not discuss Ron's trial. Still, the conversation was surprisingly pleasant. Finally, as the old man prepared to dismiss them, he addressed what would happen on the morrow.

"Ron," he said, his lack of formality driving home to the young man how involved Sensei was. "I do not wish to have you do the task I will set you upon. You are Yamanouchi's champion in many ways, but if there were another way to accomplish this task, I would do it. Now, please rest."

There didn't seem to be anything else to do but bow and follow Yori back to his own quarters. When they reached their destination, she paused before leaving.

"Ron," now her lack of formality was making him nervous. "Is there anything else you require this night? Anything I may do that may help you rest?"

"No," he shook his head. She looked a little sad, so he added, "you've been very helpful. I assume you'll wake me before dawn, so I can report to Sensei at the correct time?"

"Indeed," she paused. For a moment, she had the same posture she had twice before, when she kissed him on the cheek. However, she contented herself to simply wish him a restful night before walking off into the dark.

It took Ron awhile to settle his nerves enough to finally sleep. However, he woke before dawn and instead of putting on the training gi that had been provided, he pulled on a set of his workout clothes. Whatever he faced, he was going to face it on his own terms. Looking outside, he noted that false dawn was just starting to tinge the eastern sky. Realizing that trying for more sleep would be counterproductive, he tried to meditate and find a happy place in his mind. While it wasn't exactly serene, he found his best joy remembering a summer day, laying back with his head in KP's lap as she dropped bits of naco into his mouth. There was a wide smile; and a touch of drool on his face when Yori arrived.

"Is it time to see Sensei?" He asked.

"It is time to see Sensei," she agreed, turning and leading him back to Sensei's study.

Ron entered to find Sensei already present, seated on his sitting mat.

"I report as you requested, Master Sensei," Ron told him, bowing low and formally.

"Indeed, Stoppable," the old master was now all formality. "I bid you to follow Yori to the western wall, where she will set you on a very rarely traveled path. Follow this path for between three and four of your miles and you will come to an abandoned temple, carved into the mountain. Enter the temple and wait. Before noon, a challenge will come to you."

Sensei paused before continuing. "Stay true to yourself when you meet this challenge. You will be tempted to act contrary to your nature. Stay true, and you will overcome this trial and emerge a better man."

Since the old man didn't seem prepared to say any more, Ron merely bowed his way back out of the study and followed his old friend to the proper door and path. Accepting her wish for good luck, he followed the faint trail until he found the abandoned temple. Looking inside, he noted a single column, covered with monkey carvings, in the center of a dome-shaped room. To the right, several large rocks had fallen from the ceiling, allowing sunlight to provide dim illumination. Deciding that the collapse might be why the temple was abandoned, he entered and looked around. With nothing to do while waiting, he performed a kata that he had developed back in Colorado.

Ron had taken the mantle of 'never be normal' a long time ago but being an all-star running back made it difficult to stay true to this calling. One of they was was working with the Sensei of the local dojo to develop a style that he called aggressive defense and passive attack. It emphasized advancing with blocks while retreating with strikes. The result had been both confusing and effective when fighting henchmen.

* * *

Two hours after dawn, Fiske arrived as instructed, at Sensei's study.

"Have you thought upon the wisdom I sought to give you, three nights ago?" the old man asked him.

"I find it hard to believe," Fiske answered. "I accept that the four statues only attune the recipient to the Mystical Monkey Power, but I cannot believe that this power has a will and actually chooses whom it will manifest through."

"Your belief is up to you," Sensei searched his guest's face. "However, I ask you again to compare your mastery of this power to young Stoppable's."

"Stoppable is a buffoon," Fiske sneered. "A pretender. My mastery of Tai Sen Pek Kwar is far beyond his."

"It was, close to five years ago," Sensei agreed. "However, be a true scientist. Compare your mastery of the Mystical Monkey Power with what you have observed from him."

For a moment, Fiske maintained his usual smirk but it gradually gave way to the expression that his face held while his brain was deep in contemplation. This contemplative expression remained for several minutes.

"That may be an explanation," Fiske confessed. "After both Stoppable and I were exposed to the statues, we encountered each other when I attempted to seize Fredrick the trained space monkey and when Possible wound up fused with the monkey amulet. In neither case did he show any particular skill. However, when I attempted to seize the Lotus Blade, he proved more than a match for Fukushima, who was a promising student. His mastery over the blade also proved greater than mine."

"The next time I encountered him was when Amy had apprehended you in an effort to find me," he continued. "Again, he showed some slight ability, but nothing amazing. It was when next I encountered him, when trying to find the nature of the Han, that he showed increased ability, eliminating my monkey ninjas and fighting me to a standstill, at least temporarily."

Fiske took a deep breath. "Finally, when I summoned the Yono, he showed no great skill, being quickly incapacitated by my minions. However, when an errant blast from the Yono turned those minions to stone, he remained unaffected."

"Which is something I did not manage," Sensei added.

"I hesitate to call you a liar," Fiske growled. "But I still find it difficult to believe that the power has a will, or that it would choose to manifest through the buffoon."

"Believe what you will," Sensei repeated. "But your next lesson now awaits you. You have regained your strength since being recovered, so you are ready to face hardship. You will leave my study and meet Hirotaka outside my door. He will take you to the west wall, where a gate leads to a rarely used path. Follow this path for just over five and one half kilometers. There, you will find an abandoned temple carved into the mountain. Within this temple, you will face an adversary that you must overcome if you are to ever leave Yamanouchi as a free man. I will tell you now, however, that you may have difficulty recognizing this adversary. Now go."

Fiske followed his instructor to the referenced gate. Once outside the school grounds, he followed the faint trail until he reached the abandoned temple. He looked at the entrance, noting that it didn't look overly stable. He shrugged his shoulders, much of his career had been spent entering structures that threatened to collapse upon him at any time. Of course, he realized with a cringe, he often sent his monkeys in first. He contemplated calling out a challenge before entering but chose against it. He honestly didn't know the proper etiquette for facing such a challenge, so he chose to simply climb over the loose scree and walk inside.

Ron had been resting against the support column, trying to mentally prepare himself for he didn't know what when the clacking of some rocks outside of the temple warned him that someone was coming inside. Deciding that he might as well show some manners, he stepped out into the sunlight. Looking at the entrance, a figure stepped out of the shadows to reveal itself as...

"Monty?"

"Stoppable?" The Englishman was stunned for only a moment. "You're the adversary I must face?"

"You're the challenge that I have to face?"

"It seems that Sensei has a sense of humor," Fiske grumbled, stretching his limbs. "Or perhaps this is my reward, to finally be able to crush the buffoon that tormented me for so long."

"We don't have to fight," Ron set himself into a defensive stance.

"What you do is up to you," Fiske told him. "But I intend to not only overcome my adversary, I intend to crush him to a bloody pulp!"

The Englishman punctuated this last statement by launching himself at the blonde with a flying front kick. To his surprise, the buffoon didn't run away screaming, but slid just far enough to one side that the kick missed. Still, that left him in range of first the straight punch, which the dolt blocked and then the spinning crescent kick. The buffoon countered the kick with a rising block, but had apparently forgotten about Fiske's prehensile feet. Monty grabbed the blocking arm and pulled it down to expose his opponent's head to a barrage of punches. However, the blonde planted his feet, grabbed Monty's leg and yanked. Fiske, with only one leg on the ground, was the one pulled off balance.

The buffoon actually managed to pull him off of his foot, tossing him across the abandoned temple. Fiske did a graceful roll and sprang to his feet, none the worse for wear. The buffoon closed in cautiously, his guard up. The guarded approach gave Monty a chance to really study his opponent.

"You've grown, Stoppable," he noted, as the boy approached close enough for Monty to throw a side-kick and back-fist combination. The boy sidestepped the kick and mostly blocked the fist, which clipped the side of his head. Fiske felt first satisfaction and then a sense of annoyed respect when Stoppable spun with the hit and landed a knife-hand strike low on his right side.

Fiske barely registered the hit, responding with a flurry of punches and kicks. Stoppable's blocks were already being executed even as Monty took the offensive, swatting away each blow, although the Englishman scored another glancing blow to his opponent's stomach. Instead of crumpling up, Stoppable emitted a slight grunt and, even while retreating, threw a front snap kick at Fiske's face. Caught in an all-out offensive, Fiske managed to block but found himself off-balance and unable to avoid the elbow that struck him low on his right side, where the knife-hand had hit him before.

Fiske retreated and his opponent came on. However, Stoppable didn't throw offensive strikes, content to block every attempt Monty made to drive him off. Almost in desperation, Fiske executed a series of back flips, gaining space between himself and his adversary. Seeing the range widen, Stoppable halted his offensive and settled himself into a relaxed stance, content to see what Fiske would do next.

"You have indeed grown, Ronald," Fiske conceded, now both approaching and circling with more respect. Ron moved slightly forward and the two circled for a bit, both appraising the other and evaluating the damage they had taken in the short exchange.

"Don't you have any words for an old friend?" Fiske taunted him, feinting forward. To his surprise, Ron advanced to meet the feint, prompting Fiske to retreat again.

"You seem ready to talk enough for both of us," his adversary replied, now coming on, blocking as he advanced.

"Touche'," Fisk grinned, then launched a side kick, followed by a back fist and a spinning crescent kick.

Stoppable again dodged the side kick and blocked the fist. The crescent kick grazed the top of his head as the younger man went back on the retreat. Fiske felt a feral grin take up residence on his face as he took the initiative again, charging forward and running his opponent down, his quick kicks and punches keeping the man off balance. He felt a surge of pride as one of his punches caught Stoppable on the face, staggering the blonde. The adversary managed to block the next punch and kick but another punch struck his abdomen.

The pride and joy vanished when the blonde tormentor, even when retreating, responded to the kick by driving his elbow into Fiske's thigh muscle. One moment Stoppable was retreating and the next moment he was advancing, keeping Fiske off balance. Monty managed to swat away the punch that came at his face, avoiding all but a clip to the nose, but he couldn't avoid the knee that hit him, again, low on his right side. Both combatants backed away to evaluate the situation.

Fiske could see that he had opened a cut over Stoppable's right eye and that the same eye would soon be in danger of swelling shut. Unfortunately, his own right thigh was in a great deal of pain and was slow to respond to commands. Furthermore, his right floating rib had taken a beating. It was bruised at the best, maybe even cracked. Both his and Stoppable's forearms were already severely bruised from blocking powerful strikes.

"You're no longer a boy, Ronald," Fiske decided to taunt his opponent a little more. If he could delay the fight, perhaps Ron's right eye would swell shut and give him an advantage. "You're almost a worthy adversary."

"That must be a problem when you spend you career fighting teens," Ron replied, working the muscles on the right side of his face, clearly trying to see how badly he had been hurt. "They tend to grow up."

"Oh, most cutting," Fiske sneered, although he admitted that the younger man had a point. "I'll even go so far to say that you're worthy, but not at the level the Yamanouchi claim. If you're the world's savior, why are you having such troubles with me?"

For a moment, rage showed on Stoppable's face, then calm.

"Who told you, Monty?" The youngster seemed more curious than taunting.

"Why, the relic, of course," Fiske sneered in return. "I didn't actually believe him until just now. Tell me Stoppable, if you're capable of crushing an alien invasion, why are you losing to me?"

"It comes and goes, y'know."

For a moment, Stoppable's old, carefree smile appeared, only to quickly vanish. He now wore the blank, emotionless expression experienced fighters quickly learned to maintain.

"We'll see if it _ever_ comes back!" Fiske snarled, and attacked again.

Decades of training meant that Fiske could unleash a barrage of attacks so rapidly that nobody could avoid them all. Stoppable avoided some, blocked most of the rest but absorbed another solid kick to the torso and a backhand to the face that spun him around and sent him staggering away. Fiske surged forward, intent on finishing the fight, only to have a back-kick catch him, with almost surgical precision and impressive power, on his right, floating rib. This time, he felt the rib give way.

Snarling in pain, Fiske fell back, clutching his right side while Stoppable now came on. Instead of attacking with his advance, the young blonde man simply blocked the attacks Fiske threw in an effort to give himself some recovery time.

"You don't understand power," Fiske snapped at his assailant, even as he reeled backwards. "You have the ability to crush me, yet you don't. You could summon the Lotus Blade and cleave my head from my shoulders, yet you won't. Why not use the power at your command?"

"What would I gain?" Ron demanded. "What have you gained with your power?"

The blonde threw the occasional combination at his opponent but for the most part, he contented himself with blocking the attacks that Fiske threw at him. With a chill, Monty realized that he was tiring much faster than his opponent was.

"What _have_ I gained?" Fiske suddenly smiled, even as he was retreating. "That's the wrong question! The question is, what _will_ I gain? I will crush you and gain my revenge! I will have my revenge on the wretched cheerleader! With the Mystical Monkey Power fully in my possession, I will have my revenge on the Han and my freedom from Yamanouchi and the Yono. You are a fool, Stoppable. You have the power to crush an invasion fleet in your grasp, but you'll not use it to strike down a single man who will destroy everything that you hold dear!"

* * *

He had taken a beating, but Ron knew he was getting the upper hand. Monty was reeling backwards, his usually precise and powerful strikes had become a little ragged and poorly coordinated, easier to block. He was the younger man who had just come off football season's brutal conditioning program. He even He even allowed himself a little dialog, forcing Monty to use up more wind by speaking.

Then the comment about Kim and Hana; Ron saw red.

He lashed out immediately, catching his opponent by surprise and landing a solid punch on the Englishman's face. Monty stumbled back but regained his balance and his composure as Ron waded in, swinging away. Monty turned a punch and landed a palm-strike to the side of Ron's head, staggering the younger man and sending him stumbling away.

"That's what power gives you," Monty taunted him. "The ability to take what you want. I want freedom and revenge and with your death, I'll get both!"

Ron charged and Monty sidestepped, throwing a backhand that caught Ron on the back as he passed. Ron sprawled on his face but quickly regained his feet. This time, he didn't charge in blindly but in a measured manor, throwing a combination of kicks and punches. Monty was ready, blocking or dodging most of the shots; taking a hard back-fist to the jaw but landing a solid kick on Ron's chest, sending him sprawling again.

He rolled to one side just as Fiske's foot cracked the stone where he had been lying. He kept moving, avoiding two more shots before he could get his feet under him and launch himself into a front handspring and get some distance from his assailant. Blind aggression wasn't his way, neither was a controlled and efficient offensive. Somehow, having been hit hard twice made him realize that while Fiske was honest with what he intended to do, losing his own head wasn't going to help him prevent it. Instead, he took a deep breath and stalked forward again, blocking with his advance.

Fiske had some of his precision back, landing another glancing blow to his jaw. While the Englishman defended his right side, Ron was able to spin and drive an elbow into his wounded thigh muscle. Even though Fiske's answering punch was powerful, Ron blocked it.

Fiske continued to try to strike Ron down, this time getting in a kick to the blonde's chest. Ron withstood the blow and drove a knee up into the kicking thigh. Monty staggered back, his leg reluctant to bear his weight.

Ron's eyes were almost swollen shut, so he didn't see Monty's subtle weight shift. The Englishman threw two punches then launched himself from his good leg. Ron attempted to block a flying kick that was never thrown. Instead, Monty landed on him and secured a choke hold.

Ron fought to throw his opponent off, but Fiske's monkey feet gave the Englishman a strong advantage when grappling. He got one forearm across Ron's neck, slithered onto the blonde's back and secured himself with his feet.

"Now it ends, Stoppable," Monty gasped as he tightened his grip.

Ron was now blind, but he knew exactly where the support pillar was. Sensei had told him to remain true to himself and one thing you could say about Ron was that he was unpredictable. He managed a fairly impressive sprint in the confined space, only to spin at the last moment so that the duo smashed into the support column with Monty leading.

With all of their combined weight behind the impact, Fiske's right kidney met one of the protruding carvings.

Fiske's muscles spasmed, releasing his opponent as the Englishman roared in pain. Ron staggered away, sucking in air. He turned around, even as exhaustion, battering and oxygen deprivation dropped him to one knee. He used his left hand to force the swollen tissues around one eye apart, granting him dim vision.

Ron was never a fan of the spear hand strike, as he always considered it a good way to break fingers. Yet, down on one knee with one hand devoted to keeping an eye open, he didn't have much choice. He didn't know if Monty was staggering toward him in an effort to continue to fight or if he was on his way to collapse, but he couldn't take the chance. Stiffening the fingers on his right hand, he drove it, like a spear, into the floating rib on Fiske's right side. Fiske managed one more scream before dropping in a heap.

Ron collapsed to both knees, panting hard. As his breathing slowly came under his control, he became aware of a grating sound, the sound of stone sliding against stone. Looking up in stunned disbelief, he watched the support column break and fall over, collapsing the only exit from the temple. Cracks appeared in the ceiling, and rocks started to fall.

"You fool!" Fiske gasped. "You just killed us both!"

Ron, however, suddenly saw things with a blue tint. Much as when he faced the Lowardians, he felt new strength flow into his limbs. He looked up and saw the hole in the ceiling, where light streamed through. Still holding one eye open, he grabbed Monty by the collar, threw him over one shoulder and launched himself at the opening.

Tons of rock smashed down upon the spot where they had been standing moments before. The rest of the ceiling collapsed even as they shot through the opening. Once outside, Ron willed himself to float downward, looking for a safe space to land. To his shock, he saw Yori outside the rubble heap that used to be a temple. Only willing to utilize the MMP for a few more seconds, he set his course towards his friend and touched down lightly next to her. He dropped his opponent, none too gently, before collapsing.

"Ron!" Yori's gentle hand cupped a cheek. "Help is on the way. You will soon be with the healers at Yamanouchi."

Ron was too tired to respond.

"Stoppable," Fiske gasped, prompting Ron to force his swelling flesh away from one eye, once again.

"You have the ability to draw upon the Mystical Monkey Power," the Englishman observed, his voice weak and pained. "Why didn't you just use it to strike me down?"

As injured and as tired as he was, Ron somehow knew that he had to answer the question.

"Monty," Ron gasped. "Do you have anyone you truly love, or even like? Anyone who you'd hate to lose?"

Fiske thought for a moment and nodded, or at least Ron thought he nodded.

"Do those people ever annoy you?" Ron didn't wait for a response. "What would happen if you had the power to kill with a thought? How long would those people live? Sooner or later, everyone and everything annoys a guy, at least a little bit. If you're being annoyed results in death and destruction, what kind of world will you live in?"

For a moment, Fiske simply looked at him. Then, the man known as Monkey Fist collapsed completely, both weeping and laughing bitterly.

"So the Mystical Monkey Power _did_ choose you," he murmured. "And it would appear that it chose well."

Ron didn't know how to respond but fortunately, the sound of rushing feet accompanied the appearance of several Yamanouchi students; removing the need for conversation.

"I believe we are finished here," Fiske gasped, weakly to a very burly student.

"You can't return until you overcome your adversary," Hirotaka reminded him. "You didn't manage that."

"No," Fiske rolled his head back and forth on the ground, flinching in pain. "I can return. I just can't leave Yamanouchi before I overcome this adversary."

"I don't think you actually overcame him." Hirotaka told the older man.

"Stoppable isn't my adversary," Fiske informed him, his voice fading. "My adversary is my inane quest for power, no matter the cost."

"You were right, Ronald," he weakly turned his head towards Ron, who was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eye open. "I have misused the power I have had. It has gained me nothing that I really wanted. A pity that we both had to pay such a steep price for me to finally understand."

Ron's last memory, before darkness closed in on him, was Yori calling for her fellow students to put them on stretchers and hurry them back to the school.

* * *

 _A/N: Again, big thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading._


	10. Chapter 10

He became aware of pain and a continuous lurching sensation that was almost nauseating. He opened his eyes but couldn't see. Something cold and wet was on his face, so he tried to sit up and wipe off whatever it was. A strong yet gentle hand caught his own while another such hand pressed onto his chest, keeping him lying down.

"You are on your way to Yamanouchi, Stoppable-san," a familiar voice told him.

"Yori?" He asked.

"Yes," the voice answered. "We have placed snow over your eyes to reduce the swelling. Can you remember your encounter with Fiske?"

"Encounter?" Ron was more than a little angry. "It wasn't an _encounter_ , it was a set-up!"

"Stoppable-san, try to remain calm," the kind voice insisted, although it sounded distraught. "Master Sensei did what he had to..."

"He _had_ to put me up against Fiske, all by myself?" Ron again tried to sit up and again, Yori's hand held him down.

"You were not alone, Stoppable-san," her voice insisted. "Master Sensei had me follow Fiske and wait outside the temple, listening in case one of you should be in danger of..."

"You were outside listening?" He demanded. "Just what did you hear...no! Don't say anything! Please, don't say anything about what you heard!"

"Stoppable-san, calm yourself," she insisted. "I will only report what I heard to Master Sensei..."

"So he can tell anybody he sees fit?" He demanded. "He did a great job keeping a secret about me and the Lowa..." Ron suddenly realized that he had an audience; at least two people carrying his stretcher.

"Yori," he continued, in a much quieter voice. "You're going to have to tell me everything, once we have some privacy."

"Agreed, my friend," her voice assured him. Her hand guided his back to rest on his chest. Her other hand remained either on his shoulder or his chest, reassuring him that a friend was close by.

Now that he was awake, Ron concentrated on listening, trying to determine where they were. At times, he thought he heard the sounds of footsteps ahead of them, and assumed that it was the bearers that were carrying Fiske's stretcher. Strangely, he felt both nauseous and hungry, as he hadn't eaten that day.

Eventually, the footsteps carrying him got louder, striding on stone rather than dirt. Whispering voices sounded all around him as he was carried still further. Then, the motion stopped and he was lowered to the ground. He recognized Yori's voice speaking with another, in Japanese so low and rapid that he couldn't follow the conversation.

"Stoppable-san," Yori's voice spoke to him. "We are outside your quarters at this time. Master Taku asks if you can attempt to walk inside, so that he can judge your balance."

"My quarters?" Ron asked. "Wouldn't the infirmary be more appropriate?"

"Fiske is more seriously injured and has been taken there," she told him. "Master Sensei deems it wise to keep the two of you separated."

"He figured that out _now_?" Ron snarled, struggling to rise. "Where was this wisdom a couple of hours ago?"

As he sat up, the snow fell off of his face, allowing him to see vague shapes. He rose slowly to his feet, which was almost too much for both his head and stomach, giving him the very unpleasant sensation of nearly blacking out and nearly retching at the same time. After a few seconds of standing still, he was able to shuffle towards his door. Yori quickly caught his shirt, guiding him in the right direction. She gently steered him inside and directed him to sit on a cot. This was more than a little disturbing. The only way the cot could be there was if it had been set up before the fight. Sensei had known that he was going to take a beating!

His dark thoughts were interrupted by what appeared to be a middle-aged man, who knelt before him and start prodding and poking at his various and assorted injuries. Ron tried to remain stoic, but he couldn't help but wince and gasp at times. Finally, the man seemed satisfied with his torture and started to speak rapid Japanese. Ron could see outlines of people rushing about, apparently doing whatever he had just ordered them to do.

"Stoppable-san," Yori told him. "Master Taku asks that you lift your arms so that we can remove your shirt."

Ron did as requested and hissed in pain as his shirt was pulled over his bruises. He was then presented with a bowl of warm, herbal tea that tasted faintly medicinal. After the tea, a bowl of warm broth helped settle is stomach. Gentle hands then directed him to lie on the cot, where cold packs were placed on his face, torso and forearms. He was getting drowsy Yori told him that it would be best to sleep. The last memory he had was of a blanket being pulled up to his chin.

When he opened his eyes again, the light was dim. He felt cold and shifting his body told him that he had been undressed and packed completely in cold packs while he was out. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he eased himself to a sitting position, surprised to find that this action was much easier than the last time he tried it. As he sat up, draping the blanket around his waist, he noted a young man in a student's gi. The student bowed to him and asked him to remain seated before hurrying out the door. Minutes later, Yori showed up.

"Ron, how are you feeling?" She asked, stopping a respectful distance away from him.

"Better, I think," he answered. He didn't feel dizzy and while he was sore all over, his arms and legs seemed willing to do what he wanted them to. He actually felt a little hungry.

"Master Taku has stated that you have been iced down enough," she told him. "Perhaps a warm soak will loosen your muscles. As you have noted, your quarters are equipped with a hot bath. Shall I assist you?"

"Uh, Yori?" Ron was blushing. "I kind of have a case of the nakeds at the moment."

"Of course," she looked confused. "We undressed and cleaned you while you rested."

"Wait a minute!" He was now close to panic. "Define _we_."

"Myself, Master Taku and his assistant." She looked slightly troubled. "Is there an issue?"

"Yori, you saw me in the buff!"

"What is this...buff?"

"Naked, unrobed, birthday suit," he was now blushing furiously.

"I don't understand the issue," she looked honestly confused.

"Please just tell me that you assisted _after_ I got ice-packed," he begged.

"Why should this make any difference?" Her confusion was growing by the moment.

"Because then, you might just believe I was wearing a set of blue tights." He shook his head. "I think I can mange the hot bath on my own.

With that, he left a very confused ninja behind him and staggered to the beckoning tub, keeping a very tight grip on his blanket. Once he carefully settled himself into the tub of warm water, he had to admit that it felt wonderful. He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment...to wake up to Yori calling to him that he had been in for half an hour and it was time to get dressed and meet Master Sensei.

He emerged from the tub, reclaimed the blanket and requested a very confused Yori to leave while he dressed. He was pleased to note a set of 'more comfortable than formal' garb was laid out for him. Pulling it on was a bit of a trial, but not much. Still moving stiffly, he lumbered outside to meet up with his friend and go to see her master.

He noted that it was now early evening, and several students stopped to gawk at him as he and Yori made their way across the school grounds. Again, Yori left him at the entrance to Master Sensei's study. The old man was seated on the floor, behind a floor desk, as Ron entered. Seeing his guest, the old man rose to his feet at his approach. Ron's bow was not as low as it had been that morning; and it wasn't just because he was unsteady on his feet.

"Stoppable-san, are you well?" Sensei asked.

Ron bit back his first answer and struggled to find an appropriate response. The old man's face grew troubled during the delay.

"My body will heal," Ron finally answered, his voice very guarded. "But there's going to be some severe trust issues."

The old man actually flinched.

"Will you please be seated?" He asked, gesturing towards the floor. "We shall eat while I explain my actions."

Ron dialed up his good manners to the point that he was again able to wait until his elder seated himself before flopping, without the grace he had last night, onto his own mat. To his surprise, Yori brought in the meal.

"While serving meals is usually below Yori's station," Master Sensei noted Ron's quizzical look. "She already knows all that we will discuss. No secrets will be revealed during our conversation."

"Which is more than I can say about earlier conversations," Ron grumbled, bitterly. Yori actually looked at him with a shocked expression and Sensei had at least the manners to look embarrassed.

"Necessity dictated my actions, my young friend," Sensei said, gently. "While you must feel wronged at this point, I wish to explain this necessity, so that you may appreciate what you have accomplished."

Ron simply looked at him, trying for his best "this better be good" expression. By this time, Yori had set out the meal and Ron's belly was telling him that it needed to be fed. Sensei noted the boy glancing at the food, so he took a small bite of his own meal, so that Ron could dig in.

"As you know, I accepted Fiske's petrified remains so that his servant and...perhaps groupie is the best term...would not seek to return him to flesh. Yamanouchi has many eyes and ears in the world and we learned that the Yono had changed his method of operation, possibly facilitated by Dr. Hall's actions. After much heated deliberation, we decided that attempting to bring Fiske back to flesh was our best course of action."

"When did you do this?" Ron grumbled at him.

"I prefer to keep that information to myself," Sensei replied, in a firm voice.

"Just like you decided to not let me know that a man who has tried to kill me several times was back," Ron growled at the old man. "Not only that, he wanted to grab Hana and turn her into something...vile! You didn't think that I should have been told?"

"It was not necessary," Sensei snapped at him. "He was, and continues to be, confined at Yamanouchi. Should he attempt to leave here, he will be quickly caught and subdued."

"He's stolen from the school twice that I know of," Ron snapped right back. "The Lotus Blade and the map he used to find the temples. Your security isn't exactly air tight when it comes to him."

"Had he managed to escape, we would have known," Sensei allowed ire to creep into his voice. "He lives here, he performs tasks, he would have had an hour's lead at the best. If we couldn't have found him, we would have utilized our alliance with Global Justice to locate him and we would have warned you."

"But you couldn't warn me before letting him try to kill me again!" Ron would have jumped to his feet, except that he was still sore. "Wait a minute, you're working with Global Justice now?"

"This conversation is not productive," Sensei declared. "I did what was necessary. I kept what secrets that I could. I did all of this to achieve a necessary goal."

"So what did it accomplish?" The young man demanded.

"Fiske has now learned a vital lesson," Sensei told him, his calm demeanor once again in place. "We have spent months instilling in him the basic ideas of pride in mundane tasks done well, teamwork and even appreciation of those around him. Now, finally, he realizes that the Mystical Monkey Power isn't simply a mindless force to be used as he sees fit. Now he knows that the power found him to be unworthy; it called for a champion to wield it and you were the one who answered."

Ron found this just a little disturbing and struggled to understand why. After a few moments' thought, his eyes flew wide.

"Wait a minute!" He gasped. "When I went to his mansion the first time, what would have happened if it found me unworthy, as well?"

"The outcome would have been most unfortunate," Sensei told him. "And it would have had to send forth another call."

"You mean Fiske would have killed me!" Ron snapped. "Then KP would have shown up looking for me; if the power found her worthy, she'd be the one having nightmares about it."

"Most likely," Sensei admitted. "The Mystical Monkey Power has a purpose which is greater than any individual."

"That isn't very good for someone that gets caught up in its tricks," Ron complained.

"This...can be hard to accept," Sensei admitted. His voice was kindly and compassionate. "Sacrifices must be made for a greater purpose. Those who sacrifice may be honored but in the end, they sacrifice for others."

"Wrong!" Ron pointed out. "They _are sacrificed_! There's a big difference between volunteering for something like that and having someone else just pick you out!"

"Do you believe in nothing?!" Sensei demanded.

"I believe I'm tired of being pushed into this!" Ron snarled right back. "Every time I went on a mission with KP, or even instead of her, I knew what I was getting into. Okay, sometimes we would get surprised with something, but those were honest mistakes. The first time I came here, you told me it was a student exchange. The second time..."

"We have been less than honest with you, that is true," Sensei admitted to him. "We need to keep certain secrets yet, let me ask you this, Young Stoppable; had you known the truth, would you have still come?"

"Maybe," Ron admitted.

"Then what is the difference?"

"Maybe the difference is that I'm finally realizing what's going on," he sighed. "Do you want anything else from me? If so, just come out and say it."

"We require no further service from you at this time," Sensei told him. "I ask only that you rest, recover and keep Yamanouchi's secrets when you return home."

"Until the next time that you need me," Ron glared at him. "Then you'll feed me some half-truth to get what you want from me."

"I believe that this conversation is at an end," Sensei announced, standing up. Ron wasn't such a dolt that he couldn't take the hint; he lurched to his own feet with much less grace. "I will speak to you again in the morning. Hopefully, rest and reflection will open your eyes and let you see that my actions were not driven by malice."

"Maybe rest and reflection will make you realize that manipulation can be worse than malice," Ron offered a decidedly curt and shallow bow before turning on his heel and stalking out of the study.

He hadn't gotten more than a dozen yards before Yori caught up to him.

"Ron!" She dispensed with the honorifics. "I understand that you feel betrayed but I am certain that Master Sensei acted as he saw best for all."

"By dropping me into a fight to the death without any warning?" Ron snorted.

"I and several other ninja followed Fiske when he left the school grounds," Yori told him. "We were close at hand. Had Fiske defeated you, we would have..."

"Don't give me that!" Ron snarled at her, drawing shocked looks from those students and staff that were still out and about. "If he would have landed one, well-placed shot, he could have finished me. If I would have let the MMP take over, I would have killed him."

"But neither of you did."

"Not for lack of trying on his part," although Ron's voice was quieter, it was just as angry. "And if he would have killed me, he would have gone after Hana and KP."

"The Mystical Monkey Power would never allow him to do this," Yori protested.

"How do you know this?" He demanded. "Because _Master Sensei_ told you?"

"Stoppable-san, you are upset," she tried to calm him. "With some justification. Perhaps a restful night will help you."

"Not much chance of that," he grumbled.

"Yes, because you are upset," she repeated. "Conflicted emotions make rest difficult."

"It's not that. Sensei just taught me something important."

"To trust yourself?" She asked.

"No," he shook his head. "When a wise master invites you to dine with him, don't argue; eat! I didn't get half my meal eaten, I'm sore, I'm tired, I've been sold out and I'm _hungry_!"

"This is something I can easily deal with," Yori's smile was wide and genuine. "Come! The kitchens are still in operation and you are an honored guest of Yamanouchi, we can easily cure your hunger."

Ron quickly found his temper mollified and aggravated at the same time. The dining facility Yori led him to was comfortable and while the diners were curious about him, they had a certain polite friendliness that he enjoyed. The portions were generous and delicious...which left him grumbling. He hadn't forgotten needing to snatch morsels from the lunch lady's hands at noon, nor the hurried gulp-and-go attitude in the morning and the evening. He also hadn't forgotten Fukishima's cruelty. Still, getting the first solid meal since yesterday evening had him more calmed than irritated when Yori led him back towards his quarters.

"Tell me," he asked his companion, trying to sound casual. "Has Dr. Director visited this school?"

"Yes," Yori answered. "I trained against her and attended a lecture a few days past."

"So she knew that Sensei was going to do this to me?"

"I do not believe so," Yori told him. "She spoke to Fiske after the lecture I mentioned and did not say anything about a trial for him. I have not seen her since."

Ron only looked at her, not liking what he had heard.

"You are troubled again, Stoppable-San," she observed.

"No," he disagreed. "I'm still troubled. I haven't stopped being troubled since I saw Fiske and I'm getting more and more troubled. I'm troubleder."

"I do not believe that is a word." She pointed out.

"I don't care right now," he complained.

"Will speaking help?" She asked. "You have had a long, difficult day. Perhaps a friendly ear is what you need."

He thought about it. It was tempting, but he decided that he had already said too much. As much as he liked Yori he had to remember that she was a ninja and that her loyalty would be to her school, rather than to her friend. Had she learned something already that she would pass on to Sensei?

"I'd like to be alone," he finally told her.

"Very well," she looked sad...yet relieved. "Good night, my friend. I will see you in the morning."

For a moment she paused, looking so much like she had four years ago when she kissed his cheek. Maybe he was imagining it; she turned and left. After a few moments, he stepped inside his quarters. No longer hungry, but confused, hurt and betrayed, he tried to get some sleep before leaving this place for hopefully the last time.

* * *

Montgomery Fiske did not like having something over his eyes, but he had to admit that eliminating the distraction of eyesight allowed a certain amount of reflection. He had not been eternally paranoid and now, in the quiet of Yamanouchi's infirmary, he realized that the overriding suspicions he had of others started shortly after he obtained the first of the jade statues, and had only become more intense with each subsequent one that found its way into his possession. Since then, he had found it increasingly unacceptable to have his eyes covered and his time spent in the nothingness of being a statue had not helped things.

Still, he understood the need to keep the cloth, chilled and saturated with various medicines, upon his face. During the fight, Stoppable hadn't concentrated upon his face but had managed to land a couple shots. Also, the shrine's collapse had generated a shock wave that had given him an all-over pummeling. If he wanted to heal quickly, he needed to keep the cloth where it was.

Even if his thoughts wound down melancholy paths.

As much as he wanted to deny what he had experienced; as much as he wanted to convince himself that the beating he had endured had affected his memories, he had to admit that the beating he had endured only confirmed what Sensei had been trying to tell him. The jade statues had attuned both he and his rival to the Mystical Monkey Power but from that point, it had chosen Stoppable and had rejected him. Perhaps the younger man could have made use of it during their fight; but this was irrelevant. When he needed it, he was able to use it. Since he used it to escape and save a man who had just tried to kill him, Fiske could not discount that Stoppable's reluctance to use it had a strong correlation with why it made itself accessible to him.

Fiske had been faced with undeniable proof that far from being unworthy, the pretender was the more worthy one. This left the nobleman to review his own life. He had spent the first few hours concluding that he had accomplished a great deal and wondering at why he hadn't become the Ultimate Monkey Master. This led him to realize that simply accomplishing great things wasn't enough, so he began to review how and why he had done...what he had done. This began an in depth introspection...with all of the painstaking attention to detail that an accomplished archaeologist could muster.

Contacting Possible to recover the last statue, then stealing it while she could observe him, was foolish and uncharacteristic of him. Attempting to kill Stoppable when he showed up to investigate the theft was unconscionable. Planning on dismembering Possible to recover the Amulet of the Monkey King was also the act of a madman. Threatening children in order to be sent into space was the act of a desperate madman. Selling his soul in order to gain revenge upon a school defied all logic.

Delving deeper into his memory, he couldn't recall exactly what he wanted to accomplish with the Mystical Monkey Power once he became the Ultimate Monkey Master. He had some vague recollections about wanting to crush his enemies...but he couldn't exactly remember who those enemies were. He had some rivals and those with whom he disagreed; but not the sort that needed crushing. As a nobleman, he had occasionally socialized with the rich and powerful within British society and noted that the most miserable were those who wanted more money for the sake of having more money. It was becoming increasingly obvious to him that he had been the same way; but with power rather than wealth.

Of course, what had his rival done to earn the power's acceptance? From what Fiske understood, he was an indifferent academic, physically lazy and cowardly. The only thing of note that he did was tail Possible around while she went on her various missions...but perhaps that was sufficient for the power to accept. By accompanying Possible, Stoppable regularly found himself in the background of momentous events. While he was cowardly, he regularly managed to overcome that fear when those he cared about were in danger. He seemed to have no great ambitions except one; to keep those he cared about safe. While not an ideal recipient, he was an acceptable one.

His unwelcome reverie had made him lose track of time. A familiar voice both jolted him away from his thoughts and brought a smile to his face.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't our teammate."

The Englishman pulled the cloth from his eyes and looked down the hallway to see two familiar men pushing a covered cart. He now realized that it was roughly the time at which the infirmary's occupants would receive their evening meal.

"Wah, Sung," he greeted them with honest joy and affection. "What brings you miscreants in here?"

"Our Yamanouchi overseers aren't terribly happy with our output," Wah told him, although the young man's expression wasn't chagrined. "Since our team was one short, they decided to put us on kitchen duty today. The kitchen helpers eat last, so we managed to set aside enough for three...as long as the three are hungry."

"I'll admit to having a greater appetite than usual," Fiske admitted, struggling to sit up. Sung quickly helped him while Wah unfolded a small table and set it for three.

"We learned that you were the only patient here, so we thought we'd come and have a word with you. We got the word that you had absorbed some incredible lesson, so we thought we'd come have a word with our teammate," Sung added. "So we're ready to bask in the knowledge reflected off of you."

"Of course, I hope you can understand that we're a little confused by this all," Wah pointed out. "Since when does moving up in the world mean winding up in the infirmary for what...a week?"

"Moving up in the world means absorbing harsh lessons," Fiske answered. "And yes, I'll be here for roughly a week." Strangely enough, he smiled as he said this. Although his injured rib complained a bit, he soon had a plate of food on his lap and was happily engaged with feeding himself. "So, what happened while I was gaining wisdom the hard way?"

"It's only been one day," Sung snorted. "So nothing significant. We did find out that the Yamanouchi can gossip worse than a village of elderly women. Even we probationary students heard the rumors about you and another westerner leaving the west gate, then being brought back on stretchers. What was that all about?"

"Something that I dare not say," Fiske admitted. "It's not my secret to share, even if rumors are flying around."

"We missed you during exercises," Wah told him. "We might start backsliding without your corrections."

"Perhaps I can address this," Fiske suggested. "While I'm supposed to stay in the infirmary, I should be able to convince my bloody jailer, who masquerades as a healer, that I can rest while sitting in an exercise yard, making observations and suggestions."

"You'd do that for us?" Wah looked very grateful.

"Of course," Fiske shrugged; then his eyes flew open as a simple, yet profound truth occurred to him. "We're friends."

Soon, the meal proper was consumed and Wah produced some sweet cakes for dessert. The three enjoyed the treat before Sung produced a small bottle of sake, enough for all three to have a very small cup.

"To what we've learned here at Yamanouchi," he started the toast, holding up his cup. "Even though the learning can be either monotonous or painful, may we always remember."

"To better days ahead," Wah added.

"To improbable friendships," Fiske concluded, after a fake glare at Sung. "May we always remember that the most unlikely candidates can become the most cherished friends."

The three drank, then the younger men gathered up the dishes and left, leaving Fiske feeling strangely lonely, yet looking forward to face his future.

* * *

Warhok and Warmonga charged at him. He grabbed them by the wrists and seeing the spacecraft descending towards Middleton, hurled the would-be conquerors at the falling ship. Fukishima burst from the rubble, sneering that without the Lotus Blade he was nothing, before he attacked. A simple backhand smashed him against a wall where he fell to the ground and didn't move. One of the D Hall bullies showed up and demanded his lunch money; he simply grabbed the young thug's throat and squeezed until the boy's struggles stopped. Mr. Barkin walked up behind him and assigned him more homework; but a single swing of the Lotus Blade chopped the big man in half. His father and mother told him that he had been moved to the attic to make room for his new little sister and that this was their way of telling him about the adoption. He hurled them both beyond the horizon. Hana looked up at him from her crib; the crib that had been placed in his room. He lifted his hand over the intruder and...

"RON!"

Ron opened his eyes, realizing that he had been having another nightmare. After a couple of deep breaths, he remembered where he was. Looking up, Yori's face, illuminated by the gentle light of her lantern, came into focus.

"Was this one of the nightmares you are suffering?" She asked him.

"Yeah," he whispered, shuddering at the memory. "It's a side effect of the Mystical Monkey Power; you can save the world but you don't have any real control over it. You can crush invaders from outer space, but you won't be smart enough to know when to turn it off, will you? Every argument or disagreement you have for the rest of your life, you'll wonder if it'll kick in."

"Is there any assistance I can provide?" Yori asked.

Ron realized that his pajamas and his sheets were both soaked in sweat...and fear sweat reeked the worst.

"Just let me find something else to wear," he muttered, lurching to his feet. "I smell like a sewer."

"There is some light, bathing garb located in a cabinet in the lavatory," she suggested. "While it is meant for the shy to wear when soaking, it should suffice for sleep."

Ron nodded his appreciation and lurched off in search of the clothing. While in the lavatory, he quickly rubbed himself down with a damp cloth. Feeling somewhat better, he returned to the sleeping chamber and shoved his sweaty pajamas and boxers into a bag in his pack, idly wondering if customs would consider them a bio-hazard when he returned home. Looking up, he realized that Yori had produced some clean sheets, so he helped her make his bed.

"Thanks," he told her. "But shouldn't you get some sleep? You have to be on the Dragon Course at dawn."

"My duty is to assist you until you leave," she told him. She stepped out of his quarters and returned with a tray full of snow. "The swelling of your injuries has increased; if you lie down, I will apply cold to your wounds."

Ron did as instructed, noting that there were several smooth stones in the snow. When Yori placed the first of these chilled rocks over one of his eyes, the soothing feeling prompted a sigh of pleasure.

"Yori, you have no idea how good that feels," he murmured, as she placed another stone over the other eye.

"All of us have sustained injuries," she giggled softly. "Pain and injury are part part of being ninja, as is healing afterwards."

Soon, cold rocks were soothing his face and the injuries to his chest and stomach. It was bliss, even if he was shivering a little.

"Yori?"

"Yes?" Her gentle voice, even though he couldn't see her face, prompted him to ask his question.

"Did you ever feel anything for me, back when we were teens?" The combination of his exhaustion, the beating he had taken and the painkillers he had probably been given made him more bold with his questions than he normally would have been.

Ron couldn't see the distressed look on her face, but he noticed her delay in answering.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "If you don't want to.."

"Yes, I did," Yori sounded like she had just thrown a heavy burden off of her. "You were different from the other young men that I had known and I found that appealing. Perhaps it was best that we had an ocean between us, otherwise it may have progressed beyond...as you Americans say...a teenage crush."

"I think you helped me and Kim get together," he admitted, his voice growing slurred as sleep reclaimed him. "Somehow, she never saw me as a guy until you showed up in Middleton."

"And now the two of you are engaged," she prompted.

"Yeah," he smiled. "We're already having arguments. Well, maybe not arguments but she wants three kids and I want two. We'll just have to figure things out down the road."

"It tells me that she loves her younger brothers, while you love your sister," Yori's voice was warm as she said this. "She grew up as one of three siblings and she wants three children, so she must have enjoyed being one of three. You became one of two once Hana came into your life, so your wanting two children declares your love for her."

"I never thought of that," his voice faded as he spoke.

"Rest well, my friend," she told him. "Farewell until we meet again."

"You're gonna see me tomorrow morning, aren't you?"

"That's not decided," she told him. "If I do not, please return to Kim Possible, marry her and have a fulfilling life, free of manipulation."

"I don't understand," he whispered.

"Perhaps someday, you will," she whispered back.

She was very careful when she removed the stones from his body; cleaning each and putting them away in a case as if she were about to turn them over to another. After this, she returned to her quarters and dressed in a formal gi before striding confidently to Master Sensei's study. Despite the late hour, she knew he would be waiting her report.

"Enter," his voice called from inside.

Again, she noted that the fountains were running.

"I report, as instructed," she intoned, bowing respectfully. Sensei noted her strictly formal manner and dress.

"May I assume that young Stoppable has been consoled of the despair he felt from being betrayed and hurt?"

"To the extent he wished," Yori answered. "I tended to his injuries and spoke to him as he went back to sleep."

The old man looked at her sharply for a moment. "Was there no further consolation? Is he still angry with Yamanouchi?"

Yori ground her teeth for a moment. How could Sensei be so wise and yet so ignorant?

"I did not offer further sympathies," she told him. "He wished to speak of the implications of his engagement to Kim Possible."

The old man was disciplined, but he couldn't help but squint slightly at the implications of that statement.

"So you did not attempt to gain young Stoppable's complete loyalty?" He inquired.

"Had I attempted to seduce him, it would have backfired," she told her master. "He still has some loyalty to me as a friend. Had I done as you directed, that friendship would have been sacrificed to no gain."

"Perhaps," Sensei nodded. "And perhaps you found sundering such a bond to be distasteful."

"My personal feelings are of no consequence," she stated, he voice flat and without expression. "My loyalty, my skill and my very body are pledged to Yamanouchi."

Despite his years, Sensei flinched. "I had hoped that you would see the necessity for the cause," he said.

"That is not necessary," she intoned. "Master, I am your tool, to be utilized as your wisdom dictates."

Master sensei had encountered his share of reversals and setbacks in his many years; yet he had never felt so defeated as he did right now. "Go to your quarters," he instructed her. "I will arrange for your duties to be fulfilled and your needs to be met."

"I obey my master," Yori bowed, not seeing the flinch that her acquiescence caused the old man. She bowed her way out of the study and went directly to her quarters. Once there, she sought to meditate and clear her mind for whatever would happen.

While wondering how long Yamanouchi would continue to be her home.

* * *

A student that Ron didn't recognize informed him that Master Sensei wished to speak to him before he left. Ron was expecting this. Rather than wearing Yamanouchi garb, he was dressed as he had been when he made the hike up the mountain. His belongings were already in his pack, which he picked up as he followed the young man. The American had no doubt that if he left before Sensei gave his leave, he would be strongly persuaded to return. However, he didn't want any delays, not even a few minutes to run back to his quarters and pick up his pack, when he was finally free to go.

Much as the previous night, he was quickly ushered into the old master's study. Much as last night, a meal was waiting them, although Yori was nowhere to be seen. Ron scrapped together some good manners and exchanged bows with he old man and even waited for him to sit before lowering himself to the floor. As soon as Master Sensei took his first bite, Ron dug in.

"Again, Stoppable-san," the old master began. "I note that you are very angry with me. As before, I agree that you have every reason to be so. I only ask that you find it in your heart to recognize the necessity that drove me to take the actions I did."

Ron didn't bother replying. This time, he was going to eat a complete meal before the old man declared it over.

"I suppose that silence is preferable to some of the remarks I would make, if I were your age," the old man sighed. "As much as you do not want to hear this, I don't think that we are finished with each other. You still need this school to find harmony with the Mystical Monkey Power and I feel we will need to call upon you again, in the future."

"Master Sensei," despite his best efforts, Ron couldn't keep a bit of rage out of his voice. "I am very upset that you manipulated me into fighting Fiske."

The old man's eyes dropped as Ron continued. "I am even more upset that you drew me here through deception."

Sensei nodded at the logic expressed.

"But I don't know if I can forgive you for not telling me that you recovered him, then told him that I stopped the Lowardians."

"I do not require your forgiveness for my decisions," Sensei countered, although gently. "But tell me, what harm can come from Fiske knowing that you defeated the Lowardians?"

"What happens if he finds some way to spread the word?" Ron asked. "He doesn't run with the most reputable crowd out there. What if someone decides that they want all the gold in Fort Knox and all they need to do is kidnap Hana, or KP's brothers and force me to do it? The MMP comes and goes as it sees fit, so I won't be able to do what they want me to." He took a shuddering breath. "Me and KP decided that we were going to live as normal of a life as we could, so we talked Drakken into taking credit for stopping the invasion, we let Dr. Director know the truth so that I could get some help but every person who knows the truth is another person who could tell the wrong people!"

"Do my assurances that he cannot leave not comfort you?" Sensei asked.

"Like I said last night, he's managed to sneak into this school too many times for me to trust that he can't sneak out."

"You present a reasonable argument," Sensei admitted. "However, I wished to speak to you about the Mystical Monkey Power and your mastery of it. Did your fight with Fiske not assure you that you are in control of yourself, that the power may enhance you, but it does not control you?"

Ron chose not to answer.

You had every reason to kill Fiske," the old man continued. "You were defending yourself against an unprovoked attack, from a formidable foe who has tried to kill you in the past. Even unawares and facing a ruthless foe, you chose the path of restraint. Do you really think that you are a danger to mundane rivals when you are capable of such discipline against such as him?"

"But how long before the temptation becomes too much?" Ron asked. "It's there, in the back of my mind, every hour of every day. I'm not that great with temptation; I've been known to take the easy route in the past."

"But did the easy route ever involve harming others?" Sensei asked him. "I know that you made use of Miss Possible's battle suit to get on the football team your senior year. Tell me, how many people did you injure in order to do this?"

"Well...none."

"You also used a ring to gain a muscular physique," Sensei continued. "How many people did you injure with this power?"

"None."

"And now you have even more power," Sensei told him. "A power that you are reluctant to use. Can you not see that it is this very reluctance that makes you worthy to wield it? There is evil in the world, Young Stoppable; forces and people willing to crush not only those who oppose them, but those who happen to be in the way. Do you understand this?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded. He had seen it firsthand, many times.

"Do you not agree that simply talking to such evil, trying to accommodate or negotiate, is not always possible?"

"Yes." Ron knew where this was going, even if he didn't much care for it.

"So someone must confront it," Sensei concluded. "Someone must face the evil, be it a common thug or an alien invasion. If not you, who will?"

"I already have," Ron grumbled.

"And you think that your responsibilities are over?" Sensei shook his head. "The Mystical Monkey Power is a part of you now. It is an honor you will carry for the rest of your life."

"So it never ends?" Ron demanded. "Policemen have shifts to work, soldiers can take leave and when they finish their enlistment, they can choose to re-enlist or not. If someone owns a gun and doesn't trust himself with it, he can get rid of it. If someone is a deadly martial artist and doesn't trust himself, he can get lazy and lose his skill and strength. When do I get to give away this honor and live a normal life?"

"You cannot," there was a touch of sympathy in the old man's voice. "And that is why you need us; to learn self-discipline and self control."

"So I can allow myself to be manipulated some more," Ron grumbled back.

"Very well," Sensei sighed. "When you are finished, Hirotaka will guide you back to the Tokyo airport. While you have made the trip before, it will be easier with someone both fluent and literate in Japanese." He paused again. "Although this probably means nothing to you at this time, I am very proud of you."

Ron chose to keep his attention on his meal.

"Be well, until next we meet," Sensei offered, rising to his feet.

Ron wasn't so angry that he wouldn't offer at least this proper courtesy. He jumped to his feet and bowed his way out of the study. He thought he saw tears in Sensei's eyes when he left the building.

Hirotaka was waiting for him, and the two young men set a fairly rapid pace out of the school and down the mountain. For the first half of the trip, both were quiet. Finally, Hirotaka broke the silence.

"I'm sure Master Sensei's already apologized," he said. "But I'd like to also say that I'm sorry for the way we had to treat you."

"Had to," Ron muttered. "Isn't necessity a really handy thing? Isn't it convenient that nobody had any choice in the matter?"

"Look," the student countered. "I know it was bad but..."

"Hirotaka," Ron finally decided to throw his good manners aside. "All I know is that I received a call that said I had to come here, right away, to test some aspect of the MMP. Conveniently, it was after I got here that I found out that the test was going to consist of a trial. Then I found out that the trial was going to be a trial by combat when I suddenly found myself face to face with a master of kung fu who has tried to kill me on multiple occasions. The only one who's been honest with me has been Fiske. He said he was going to beat me to a bloody pulp and he did."

"I'll be honest," Hirotaka offered. "I think that Master Sensei wanted Yori to do something that she refused to do; and it had something to do with you. She's been confined to her quarters and she never does anything that warrants that kind of punishment."

"There's that, at least," Ron murmured. "She was very kind to me when I was here the first time and I'd hate to think that it was only an act."

"She's fond of you," the ninja told him. "Are you fond of her?"

"Yes," Ron said, simply. He wasn't in the mood for going into detail.

"You think she's hot?" His companion asked.

Ron glared at him for a moment. "She's beautiful, very capable, intelligent, kind and one of the strongest people I know. That's what I think."

"She's also my cousin," Hirotaka informed him.

"Then I apologize if I gave any offense."

"I don't know how it is where you're from," Hirotaka shook his head. "But those aren't exactly insulting terms in Japan." The big student looked at Ron for a few minutes, deciding what to say. Finally, "Ron, I'm Fiske's main caretaker here. I have to say that I've grown fond of him."

"If you think I'm going to apologize for defending myself, you're in for a disappointment," Ron told him. "That bastard tried to kill me...again."

"No, you didn't do anything wrong," Hirotaka told him. "You may or may not take pride in this, but I have to say that now that he's recovered from being turned back to flesh, he's a very capable fighter. He hates you and was going at you with everything he had. You gave better than you got. That's something to be proud of."

"If you like hurting people."

"Sometimes, you don't have a choice. In the meantime, we need to work on your cover story."

"Cover story?" Ron prompted.

"You're awful beat up," Hirotaka reminded him. "We came up with a story to explain it, in case any officials get curious."

"Okay, what happened to me?"

"You were out hiking on Yamanouchi Mountain," Hirotaka told him. "You fell on a steep section. You made it to Yamanouchi and we kept you for a day of recovery before you left."

"So I'm back to being the buffoon," Ron sighed. "Might as well."

"We came up with the story because it's simple and plausible," Hirotaka protested.

"Just forget I complained about anything," Ron countered, before setting his jaw.

Hirotaka took the hint and remained quiet for the rest of the trip down the mountain. Once on the bus, he engaged other passengers with what Ron assumed was polite conversation. While the other passengers were polite, Ron noted that some of them, after speaking with Hirotaka, chortled at the American. Ron tried to keep a smile on his face but he was seething. Fortunately for the blonde, he didn't have to go to the passenger terminal. Either Yamanouchi or Wade had set him up on a courier delivery services aircraft that had a spare crew seat. Ron stopped at a store and purchased some food and cold packs for the flight. Hirotaka addressed him before he got on the plane.

"Ron," the big student looked around, making sure nobody was in earshot. "You probably think you got a raw deal from us. Okay, you _**did**_ get a raw deal from us. Master Sensei...he has to make some rough choices at times. I just want you to know that he didn't do it because he was cruel. You are important to him. You are important to us."

"I've already heard the 'necessity' speech," Ron told him. "Look, I'm mad as hell right now. Maybe after a couple of weeks go by, I'll be ready to talk things through. For right now, I'm going to have to go home and tell my parents and everyone else I know how I got beat up like this."

"You have a cover story..." Hirotaka offered.

"Yeah, be the buffoon some more," Ron grumbled, bitterly. "Look, good luck and I hope you do a good job rehabilitating Fiske...I just don't want to ever have to see him again."

With that, Ron spun on his heel and stalked up the portable stairway and into the aircraft. He found the spare seat, strapped himself in and put one of his cold packs on his face. As much as he was looking forward to getting home, he really wasn't in any mood for the grilling he knew he was going to be taking.

* * *

Yono was known as The Destroyer, not as The Patient, but it discovered that there could be a certain enjoyment in subtlety and preparation. Yono's earthly senses now functioned and it could use its body, but not yet to the point that he was ready to move on the imperial mausoleum. Yono could also speak with its earthly servants and determine that some organization was hunting for him. Strangely enough, Yono felt joy at the challenge.

"So the local officials have been told that some insane cultists have smuggled a mutated primate to this city and may be planning to desecrate the tomb?" Yono asked the small group in front of him.

"Yes, mighty Yono," one of the leaders answered. "They are asking all residents to be on the watch for suspicious activity."

"So you counsel me to move just out of the city?" Yono asked.

"Forgive me, mighty Yono," the man begged. "I do not know the extent of your current power, or if you are prepared for a confrontation of this magnitude at this time."

"You are forgiven," Yono scratched at the bottom of its muzzle. "I am not ready to face the power that the Chinese Government can bring to bear; at least not at the moment. However, I need assurances that my followers are truly loyal."

"Anything," the man insisted.

"Pull off your shirt," Yono ordered.

Without hesitation, the man did so. Yono reached out his left appendage, something between a hand and a paw, and rested it on the man's left shoulder. Yono allowed a slight surge of its power to pass through and took some satisfaction at the shudder that went through the recipient. When Yono removed its hand, a mark, looking like a golden, meditating monkey inside of a flaming red disk, had taken up residence on the man's shoulder.

"Get a good tattooist, one that is handy with the needles and can keep his mouth shut," Yono instructed the servants. Send the tattooist to me and pass the word; any who want to share in the Yono's triumph and the spoils that will come from it will bear the Yono's mark. Those of you here will take my mark directly from me, or pay the consequences."

Yono smiled as the men present started to remove their shirts. It directed its attention to whomever, whatever was searching for it.

"Your move."

* * *

 _A/N As always, big thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading._


	11. Chapter 11

Master Sensei was no coward. Before becoming the headmaster at the Yamanouchi School, he had been a teacher and operative. He had walked into Yakuza dens, bandit encampments and even primary schools without fear. However, every man had fear and he was now reminded of an old saying; it can be hard to face your enemies, but it's harder to face your friends.

While the term 'friend' didn't apply to Yori, she was a valued and respected student. It was easy to like the young woman; she was kindly, disciplined and very capable. However, somehow he had abused her loyalty and she was now acting like a conscripted soldier, not like a willing volunteer. He needed to regain her willing loyalty, he needed to restore her trust that Yamanouchi stood as a beacon of good in the world.

Unfortunately, he didn't know exactly how to go about it.

It had been a long time since he felt trepidation; he actually paused at her door and relished in the unfamiliar sensation for a moment or two before rapping on the side of her door. He only had to wait a moment before her call reached his ears. He slid the door to one side; and his heart plummeted in his chest at what he saw.

Yori rose to her feet, from where she had been kneeling on a mat, waiting for someone to show up. Around her, her possessions had been pulled from the various closets and cabinets and stacked neatly along one wall; to make it easier to discard them.

"Master Sensei," she acknowledged him, bowing formally and correctly, as if it were the last bow she would ever offer him.

"Yori-chan," he returned her bow. "May I come in?"

"Of course, master. The quarters are yours."

Internally, the old man flinched, even as he walked inside. Somehow, he wished she would have told him to take a long hike off of a short pier.

"We must speak, child."

"As you wish."

She waited as he seated himself, then knelt again when he gestured her to sit. For a moment, he was tempted to tell her to sit comfortably but decided not to. If she found some comfort in subtle defiance by being formal, he would indulge her.

"Yori, do you feel that I set your assignments for my own amusement?" He asked her.

"It is not my place to question."

"A very correct answer, child." He fixed her with a stern gaze. "But I ask you, before I need to order you, share you thoughts with me."

"I believe that you do what you feel is correct," she answered him. "But I do not believe that you take into account how those affected by your decisions will react."

"An honest answer," he noted. "And one with some validity. Let us discard niceties and have a productive conversation. I instructed you to seduce young Stoppable and you did not even attempt to do so. Why is this; and speak bluntly."

"I may have been able to do so," she answered. "He was feeling betrayed and he was somewhat intoxicated by the medicines he had been given. The physical act is not always one of lust, it can be one of comfort and consolation, but even if I had succeeded, I saw no benefit, dire consequences, and great dishonor in doing so."

"Why do you think I instructed you to do this?"

"To bind Stoppable-san's loyalty to Yamanouchi," there was a touch of distaste in her voice when she spoke. "Whan a man with honor performs such an act, he attaches loyalty and commitment to it."

"This is true," he sighed before continuing. "Yori, when I invited young Stoppable to visit this school the first time, I instructed you to meet him at the airport. Why do you think that I did so?"

"I had the best mastery of the English Language of all who were still here," she shrugged.

"Hirotaka's mastery was roughly at the level as yours," he pointed out. "And I sent him to America as part of the exchange. Why do you think I did so?"

"I never considered it," she admitted.

"The intelligence I had received about Fiske and the Mystical Monkey Power was not precise," he told her, his gaze and voice reflecting on memories from that time. "I estimated that there was a seventy percent chance that Stoppable had been exposed to it and a thirty percent chance that Kim Possible was the one who had received it. As Stoppable's probability was greater, I requested him. I sent Hirotaka to Middleton in case Kim Possible was the chosen one. Now, why do you think that I selected you to stay here and Hirotaka to go there."

Despite Yori's determination to remain coldly formal and detached, she couldn't prevent the shocked expression that appeared. "Master, did you intend me to..."

"I did not intend for you to seduce him at that time," Sensei told him. "Neither did I intend Hirotaka to seduce Miss Possible. On the other hand, I know well that a request, a subtle nudge delivered by a pretty girl can often influence a young man more than logic delivered by an old man." He offered her a slight smile. "The same can be said about a young woman receiving a request from a handsome young man."

"So even then, my primary use to Yamanouchi was my ability to catch the eye and stoke the desires of men," Yori concluded.

"Not at all," Sensei sighed. "It is only one of many abilities you have developed that are of great benefit and value to Yamanouchi. As much as you may struggle to believe this, it is not one that I use lightly; yet use it I must."

Yori merely looked at him, her impassive expression once again firmly in place.

"Let me pose another question," the old man continued. "Yamanouchi can muster a greater force than any of the Yakuza clans that we frequently find ourselves fighting. So why do you think that I haven't gathered our fighters and eliminated at least one of these groups?"

"Because the others would band together and defeat us," she answered. "As my classes taught me, no matter how strong you are, there is always someone stronger and this applies to organizations as well as individuals."

"Those who founded Yamanouchi were well aware of this," he told her. "Which is why they patterned their operations after the ninja, rather than the samurai. A bold warrior may bring order by crushing his enemies. In so doing, he may even stir the admiration and loyalty of those he defends but he will certainly generate envy and resentment in his opponents. Eventually, those he defends will also resent him, as he will inevitably seek to impose his ideals of discipline and obedience upon them."

"The champion inevitably comes to believe that accolades and support are his due, not a gift," Yori recited her lessons. "And when these are denied him, he comes to believe that those he is defending are worse than the enemy."

"So we work in the shadows," Sensei said. "While we use violence against cults and criminal organizations; we use other methods with those we secretly defend. We manipulate rather than force, we suggest rather than demand..."

"We seduce rather than reason," Yori interrupted, her voice bitter. "We manipulate rather than form mutually beneficial associations with allies who know exactly what is expected of both parties."

"Explain," Sensei ordered, his voice sharp at her lack of respect to him.

"We give the target no choice," she answered. Her eyes were not demurely upon the floor, but boring straight into his own, challenging him to deny her words. "A young man, barely out of boyhood, runs afoul of the Mystical Monkey Power and it isn't enough that he aides us out of friendship; we must entice him with any _reward_ at our disposal. A young woman assists us because of her friendship for him and her drive to help those in need; so we seek to break up the union she wishes to form with her lifelong friend because we want more control of him."

"You make a valid point," he conceded. "Yet, do I have a choice? We could very well need the full might of the Mystical Monkey Power at our side when we confront the Yono. Do I dare fail to use any hold I may have on the Chosen One? Should the Yono prove victorious against us, will I be able to forgive myself if I allowed myself to let any possible ally leave my influence; no matter what it took to gain that influence?"

"How is this different from what the Yakuza do?" Yori countered. "They kidnap someone who is dear to a man and then force him to commit some crime. They threaten a man's family in order to extort a measure of his income for the rest of his life."

"Our actions are different in two ways," he answered, with no sign of irritation or anger. "First, we do not threaten others to gain one's loyalty; we appeal to his sense of honor. Second, we do not perform our actions in order to gain, we perform our actions to protect others."

"So it all comes down to motivation and the goal," Yori mused, then noted her master's approving nod. "Which means it all comes down to the wisdom and honor of whomever directs Yamanouchi's efforts."

Master Sensei could have taken that as an insult but he was too pleased that she had quickly discerned the point of weakness in the organization. "That is why the selection process for the Master of Yamanouchi is so exhaustive," he answered. "You have seen the beginnings of this, with the screening process to become a Yamanouchi operative. We look much deeper than capability; we demand that the agent has the morality and the loyalty to be trusted. This screening becomes more demanding as the operative is promoted to duties of greater responsibility."

"Indeed," she answered. "Yamanouchi demands loyalty; beyond what the operative observes and suffers."

"Reflect upon our conversation," he sighed, rising to his feet. She was not so upset to fail to do so as well. "Perhaps reflection will alter your viewpoint...and perhaps not. In the meantime, put your possessions away; your quarters look like you expect to be evicted at a moment's notice."

* * *

"Kimmie, you seem awfully jumpy, is there something I should know about?"

Kim suddenly realized that she had been pacing the kitchen for the last twenty minutes.

"Sorry mom," she found a chair. "I'm just excited about Ron getting back."

"Well, the courier delivery plane isn't due in for another few hours. Didn't you say that the school notified Wade that Ron was on it?

"Yes."

"And Wade has been tracking it?"

"He didn't say that he was."

Anne Possible simply fixed her daughter with an amused look.

"Fine," Kim waved her hands in the air. "I'm sure that Wade is tracking it and he'll let me know if anything happens."

"You've spent a few days apart from each other before," Anne teased her just a little. "Were you like this every time?"

"No," Kim admitted. "I was really looking forward to getting the families together, and he suddenly had to run off to Japan."

You weren't this pumped to get the families together the first time you came back from college," Anne pointed out. "What's so special about this year?" The older woman offered a sly smile. "Does it have something to do with the fact that you've started to wear gloves all the time?"

Caught, Kim offered her mother a smile and pulled off her left glove to display the ring. "I wanted to break the news to everyone, with Ron here at the time."

"You don't need to wear the ring all the time," Anne chided her, but there was a smile on the surgeon's face when she did so. "It's the question and the answer that make you engaged, not the ring."

"I know," Kim rolled her eyes. "But it just seems...wrong to take it off when he isn't here."

"I'm happy for the two of you," the brain surgeon walked up to her daughter and gave her a warm embrace. "But I'm not all that surprised. The two of you have been working towards this for a long time."

"We've only been dating for two and a half years," Kim protested, returning the embrace.

"Dating for two and a half years," Anne released her daughter then stepped back, holding her at arms length and looking her in the eye. "Tiptoeing around the issue for two years before that and best friends for ten years before that. Let me see the ring."

"That's why I was upset about him being called off so suddenly," Kim told her mother.

"Well, he'll be back in a little bit," Anne reminded her. "I know it's a weeknight, but I'll suggest that we pop over and welcome Ron back. You can make your big announcement then. We can put some sort of celebration together this weekend. Now, let me see the ring."

"Thanks, mom."

"Don't you think you should warn him of the get together?" Anne teased her daughter just a little. "If he's on the plane, you should be able to talk to him, shouldn't you? You do that and I'll call his mom and set up the family meeting. For the third time, let me see the ring."

"Thanks, mo.." Kim started, only to be interrupted by the front door bell. "I got it mom."

She missed her mother grinding her teeth at being stymied, once again.

Kim opened the front door to see, "Monique!"

"Girlfriend, how has life been treating you?" Her friend demanded.

"Just great, come in! Mom! Monique's here!"

"Hey, Dr. Possible," Kim's friend shouted to the unseen doctor.

"Monique," Anne announced, walking into the living room. "How are you?"

"Been doing great," the young woman said. "I hate to be rude, but your daughter and I have some major catching up to do!"

"Well go on upstairs then," Anne smiled at the two. "You never know when James or the boys will come in."

For Kim, it was almost like being in high school again. Monique grabbed her hand and almost dragged her up the stairs to her room. In no time, Kim was sprawled on her bed but Monique didn't take her usual seat on the beanbag chair by the desk.

"First things first," Monique demanded. "Let's see the rock!"

Smiling broadly, Kim held up her left hand.

"Care to take it off and let me get a good look?" The fashion and gossip maven asked.

"Not on your life," Kim retorted. "I know it's coming off sooner or later, but not just now."

"It's pretty," Monique judged, still shifting her friend's hand this way and that to view it from every angle. "It isn't the biggest rock, but a lot better than you'd expect from a college student."

"I'm guessing that Ron called in a favor to get a better deal," Kim confided. "But there's no way I'm going to even try to find out."

"So where is he?" Monique asked. "He only popped the question a couple of days ago. The two of you should be locked at the hip."

"He got called to Japan," Kim grumbled. "Just a few hours after he gave me this."

"Japan?" Monique gave her friend an odd look. "And you didn't go with him?"

"Back in the high school days, he ran into a couple of things that I didn't," Kim told her.

"So, what kind of mission?"

"I really can't say," Kim admitted. "Monique, we've run into a few things that we just can't talk about. I hope you understand."

"Yeah, I guess it's part of growing up," Monique shrugged. "Sort of like I'm not supposed to talk about the soon-to-be-released spring line for Club Banana."

"I'm not going to try to trade my secrets for Club Banana sneak peeks," Kim grinned at her friend.

"Spoilsport!"

"So who all knows?"

"You and mom," Kim told her. "We're going to get the families together and let them know all at once."

"Sounds like a plan," now Monique took up her customary spot on the beanbag. "Other than getting engaged, what's up with you?"

The two young women launched into an extended conversation covering classes, classmates, grades, social lives and future plans. Monique informed Kim that she indeed had a boyfriend; he just wasn't aware of the fact that he was her boyfriend yet. The two had a good laugh about that one, then the topic went on to new friends and what they knew of old friends. With an old friend to talk to, Kim managed to put aside her nervous yearning for her fiance and indulge in another kind of friendship. The two were just discussing Bonnie's current situation with Junior when Kim's Kimmunicator chirped.

"Oh, my goodness!" Kim was honestly shocked by how much time had gone by. "Ron's plane will land in a half hour." She looked at her friend. "Are you doing anything special? Care to come along and when I pick him up?"

"I'd love to see him again," Monique got to her feet, paused, then showed an impish grin. "I'm not going to be interrupting _anything..._ am I?"

"Monique," Kim chided her, while grabbing her coat and purse. "I wasn't planning on ravaging him on the way home!"

"I can drive back, if it'll help," Monique offered.

The gossip session didn't end when the young women got into Kim's Sloth, although it did tame down a bit and allow Kim to pay attention to the road. Monique was a little surprised when they didn't go to the commercial section of the airport, but to the general aviation terminal. They watched as the courier delivery plane landed and taxied to a loading dock.

Kim gasped in excitement when a person, bundled against the cold and with his hood concealing his face, appeared at the top of the portable stairway and started to walk down. However, her excitement soon turned to concern, when she noted that the familiar figure was moving stiffly, as if he were in considerable pain.

The two young women got out of the car and walked into the G.A. terminal. This terminal was not equipped with the facilities and amenities to handle large crowds, like a commercial terminal, so the two young women sat on some uncomfortable, plastic chairs while waiting for the young man. Eventually, a heavy door at the far end of the open room swung in, allowing their quarry to enter. Kim was first on her feet, grateful that Monique was hanging back to give her first access to Ron. As she rushed up to him, ready to throw her arms around the young man, he pulled off his hood, prompting her to stop in her tracks. His face was covered with ugly bruises and a nasty cut over one eye was still not completely healed.

"Ron...what happened?" She gasped, putting her hands on his shoulders.

He opened his mouth, but then paused, seeing Monique approach. His serious expression suddenly changed to embarrassed.

"Well, I was out on the mountain trails and slipped," he said in a false-cheerful voice. "Kinda got roughed up by the fall, y'know."

Pulling her into a hug, which Kim willingly returned, he put his mouth to her ear.

"KP, as soon as we get alone, we need to talk."

* * *

"Enter!" Yori called, answering the polite rap on her door. She placed a hooded sweatshirt, purchased during a mission on the American West Coast, in her closet and turned to face the door. To her mild surprise, it wasn't Sensei or another instructor.

"Hirotaka," she offered a slight bow.

"Yori," he mimicked the gesture. "Master Sensei told me that my cousin could use some company, especially if that friend were to bring a little of what we're not supposed to have, but we all do, and our instructors don't mind as long as we don't get carried away."

For a moment, Yori was tempted to demand that her cousin leave her quarters. How dare Master Sensei continue his manipulation? Then, she mastered herself. She was similar to other senior students; she would speak more openly to a friend than to an instructor and often, speaking helped calm aggravated emotions. Instead of snapping at him, Yori gestured to one of the mats and turned to grab a couple of glasses. By the time she turned back around, Hirotaka had set a bottle of cola and a bottle of rum in front of him.

This was slightly surprising. Older Yamanouchi students had a long history of making moonshine in secluded draws around the school. The effort to ferment and distill such spirits, while the instructors sought to track them down, was both enjoyable and educational to all parties. When the instructors found the stills, they would confiscate the product, whose only value was the effort invested in it. The raw alcohol was vile; tradition had that the instructors once attempted to teach the students a lesson by secretly replacing the moonshine with kerosene, but the students couldn't tell the difference. Still, the horrid spirits packed a respectable kick and were tolerable...when diluted enough. The fact that Hirotaka was parting ways with quality rum when the homemade stuff was available told Yori that he took the upcoming talk seriously.

Her cousin offered both bottles to her, which was more non-verbal communication. Rather than pouring the drinks, he was allowing her to let him know how difficult it was going to be to speak by letting her control the amount she was about to consume. She poured enough rum to drop her inhibitions a little, to open her mouth when custom and propriety would dictate that she remain silent; yet not so much that it would inhibit her memory. After that, she handed him the liquor and filled the remainder of the glass with cola, noting that he poured himself about the same amount, adjusting for his larger body mass. For a few minutes the two sat nursing their drinks; biding their time while a pleasant warmth, and a willingness to talk, spread out from their stomachs.

"I believe that Master Sensei's instructions allow us to discuss some missions that we have been instructed to keep secret," she finally said.

"I agree," he nodded. "As long as such discussions don't go outside of this room."

"Have you ever had to take on a _morally troubling_ assignment?"

"Two," he answered.

"Could you describe the first one?"

He took a healthy draw from his beverage. "My job was to learn secrets from a mid-level Yakuza officer," he recalled. "I took the persona of a doorman working in his apartment complex. He had lost interest in his wife and she had let herself go just a little bit. He had mistresses; second wives, although he never brought them home. She knew what was going on and I guess she wanted a little validation; to know that she was still desirable. I took advantage of this and entered into a relationship with her. Eventually, she gave me access to the apartment whenever her husband had to _stay late at work_. I had plenty of time to snoop about the apartment and sift through what records he kept there."

"What was your opinion of her, once your mission was completed?"

"I felt sorry for her," he answered, his eyes slightly unfocused as he concentrated on his memories. "She was somewhat saddened when I told her that a relative of mine had been in an accident and I was leaving to assist him. I was concerned about her, for fear that her husband would realize that information had been gleaned from his apartment."

"Do you remember her fondly?" Yori's question, and her gaze, were piercing.

"A little," he admitted. "It's hard to not get emotionally involved. Master Supai had some long talks with me. Yes, she was in a difficult position, but she had put herself into that position. She had married him knowing that he was a Yakuza on his way up in the organization. The wealth she enjoyed came from smuggling, prostitution and gambling addiction."

"So, she created her own fate?" Yori took another pull on her drink and watched him.

"Yes," he nodded, then his eyes opened slightly. "I know where this is going, so let me answer right now, I am growing fond of Fiske. He has a chance of becoming a decent person, as long as he has some consequences when he acts up."

"I find being subjected to lava, twice, to be considerably more serious than _**acting up**_ ," Yori's tone dropped the temperature in the room several degrees.

"Cousin, I know that he wronged you," Hirotaka placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "And if you chose to never forgive him, you are well within your right to do so. Yet, I will seek to help him become a better man."

"So he will find redemption," Yori sighed. "He may return to his old life, before his villainy; to his luxurious estate and his wealth while I remain here as a dutiful daughter of Yamanouchi. The master I have sought to serve and my own cousin will turn from me to assist him." She tipped back the last of her drink and mixed another.

"I'm not turning from you!" He snapped at her. "If you ask, I will ask Master Sensei to have another train with him."

"That will not be necessary," she told him. "I saw him exchange some words with Doctor Director. They were friendly words and when they were done, they both were reluctant to part ways." She took another healthy draw from her glass. "Perhaps that is the way of the world. Should we weather the storm that the Yono brings upon us, one that Fiske himself helped to unleash, he will return to his estate and perhaps take up a relationship with her. In the meantime, I will be the dutiful servant of Yamanouchi, ready to give myself to the next Yakuza pig for the greater good."

Hirotaka couldn't think of anything to say about that.

"Have you ever wondered what is to become of us?" She asked him. "What is your future here, cousin?"

"I always thought I would continue on this path," he shrugged. "I intend to gain skills and knowledge until I become a full operative and then an instructor. Perhaps I can become a master some day."

"Like I have striven," she noted, bitterly. "But perhaps there is a better path to walk. Fukushima is now an automobile mechanic. He has a certain amount of wealth, the respect that comes with being a skilled tradesman and prospects for his future."

"Is that what you want?" He cousin asked, shocked. "Material wealth? We strive for so much more! We have our honor?"

"Honor." Now, even her chuckle was bitter. "Do you ever wonder at the source of honor?"

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever seen the stockpile of it that Master Sensei keeps? It must be rare and he must store it somewhere, since he seems to be the one who can distribute it to us." She took another draw from her drink. "Perhaps it is liquid, and there are cisterns under the ground that hold it. Perhaps it is gaseous, but I do not see any sort of filters in the air that capture it."

"Cousin..." Hirotaka tried to interrupt her rant to no avail.

"Do the masters spontaneously generate it from within their own bodies?" She wondered, an uncharacteristic sneer on her face. "If so, how is this done? At what age does one's liver start to create honor, or is it the kidneys? Perhaps it is of no matter; how does a master transfer such honor to another? Master Sensei says that I have gained great honor by performing thankless tasks that I find demeaning; yet I have never seen this honor. Where am I keeping it? I do not have a box for it, nor can I feel it in my blood or my stomach. Perhaps honor is a living thing, like a skittish bird that shows up at my window every morning to feed upon the bits of bread that I set out."

"I think you've made your point," Hirotaka said, his voice gentle. "But this brings a more important question; what happened to you that you question a life of honor?"

"Reality!" She spat. "Cousin, do you not find it likely that at some point in the distant past, some Oji realized that he didn't have silver or land to give out in exchange for service, so he gave out honor? What are words of praise but air through the lungs? What is a commendation but cheap ink on cheaper paper?"

"Are you saying that you want wealth?" Hirotaka was stunned by this thought more than an elbow to the chin.

"The opposite," she insisted. "I do not seek gain for what I do for Yamanouchi, but I would like to see Yamanouchi spend when I perform such demeaning tasks. I give myself to a rutting, Yakuza sukamu and bring back details of their latest operation; Master Sensei and Master Tsukiakari offer words of thanks in return. How trying for them! It must be _so_ difficult for them to do so yet, they manage it and send me out to do the same." She drained her second glass, thought about mixing a third and decided against it.

"Have you told Master Sensei or Master Tsukiakari how distasteful you find this?" He asked. "They are not unreasonable. They will take you off of such assignments."

"Perhaps honor is a poison," she answered. "Once it infects you, you cannot throw off the effects. Should I approach one of the masters and give even a hint of how horrid I find such actions, they will find another to do so. Will it be Jundo? I helped to train her. Will it be Chujitsuna? She cried the first time that training left her bruised, until I explained that pain is temporary. Will they chose Shai? She has a crush on you, although she doesn't have the courage to express it." Yori shook her head. "I will not curse another to take up this burden. Instead, I will remain here while my American friends, Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable, pledge themselves to each other and debate how many children they will have."

"Is that it?" Hirotaka asked her. "You see yourself as going nowhere while those you know move forward with their lives?"

"One can consider such a question when one has an excess of solitude," she answered, her words slightly slurred. "I did so last night and realized that it's not the case. I had the ability to inhibit the lives of three whom I know, yet I had no wish to do so. I could have made a complaint about Fukushima, yet I did not. Master Sensei instructed me to seduce Ron Stoppable and had I done so, I would have imperiled his planned marriage to Kim Possible. Would either acts have given me the lives they enjoy?"

"So breaking down someone else won't build you up," Hirotaka noted. "You've always known this, so why the issues now?"

"At what point do those who support and assist Yamanouchi get the same consideration as those who have harmed the school?" She asked. "Fukushima now works a job where he earns his own money and pays for his own food. Yet, the clothes on my back, the roof over my head and the food on my plate can be removed by Yamanouchi on a whim. Master Sensei dedicates your efforts to rehabilitating Fiske, yet Kim Possible, who assisted the school with no thought of personal gain, is rewarded by Master Sensei trying to break up her marriage."

"Such actions are necessary!" He protested.

"Necessity!" She snorted, with disgust. "Perhaps that is where honor comes from. There cannot be coincidence that two such poisonous entities have nothing to do with each other."

"So what do you want?" He finally asked. "I know what you see wrong, what do you want out of your life?"

"I want a life where my rewards are based upon my efforts," she answered immediately, which told Hirotaka that his cousin had thought this through. "I want to have employment where my loyalty is respected and rewarded, not just assumed. I want...I want..." even with some liquid courage in her veins, she had difficulty speaking the last part. "I want...a relationship with a man!"

For a few, endless seconds, Hirotaka could only look at his sobbing cousin.

"Sensei gives us leave to do as we wish," he pointed out. "If you want a relationship, take your leave time and hit the clubs! You'll be able to find someone..."

"No!" She shook her head, savagely. "I don't want a fling! I want...I want to meet someone and worry if he finds me attractive and likable. I want to go through all of the little steps that normal people do! I want to meet, send each other awkward gifts and texts and do the little, silly things that are special when you do them together!" She dropped her gaze to the floor, unable to speak more.

"You want romance," her cousin supplied for her. "You want to fall in love."

"Yes!" She agreed. "But what of the young man in question? What if one of the Yakuza I defeated recognizes me? What happens to the young man? I am tainted, my cousin, I dare not enter into a relationship I desire, because it may well endanger anyone I care about!"

"So, you're pretty much limited to Yamanouchi itself for that sort of thing," Hirotaka concluded.

"And is that safe?" She demanded. "Fiske himself proved that even promising students can be corrupted by someone beyond these walls. If an Englishman could do it, so could a Japanese. How many times have Yakuza detected our attempts to infiltrate their ranks and taken bloody revenge against us?"

"More than I care to think about," he admitted.

"So what if I allow myself to grow close to Sukiru, Hansamu, or Yuki? What if some Yakuza informant learns of this and decides that a strike will harm two of us for the effort of eviscerating one?"

"It's not a pretty thought," Hirotaka admitted.

"I have hurt our adversaries in ways that you have not, that you cannot," she finished. "And my rewards for such success is that our enemies will be willing to hurt me in ways that they cannot harm you...if I allow myself to grow weak."

Hirotaka had no answer.

"So I remain here," Yori concluded. "Constrained by the honor I have, since I cannot bring myself to inflict the consequences of my previous actions upon another. I gave everything to Yamanouchi and I have nothing left for myself."

"This just doesn't sound like you," he finally noted.

"Perhaps I should have sounded like this for a long time," she countered, fatigue showing on her face and in her voice. "We are close to the same age, but we have both experienced things that the other has not. Let me share a little of what I have learned. Consider a dog that iS chained to its master's door. Beyond the master's yard lie vast, open spaces in which the dog would like to run, yet he does not do so."

"That's the lesson?" Hirotaka asked. "That Yamanouchi is somehow chaining us and keeping us from being free?"

"No," she told him. Her voice was barely more than a whisper and her eyes were drifting shut as she continued. "The dog does not seek to run in the open spaces. Because he does not get up, he doesn't even realize that he has been chained. Why should Yamanouchi bother chaining us, when we do so ourselves?"

The young woman slumped over and Hirotaka gently laid her on her sleeping mat and covered her with a blanket. He then cleaned up the slight mess the two had made of the quarters and made his way back to his own. Two thoughts were foremost in his mind: First, he wondered if the attitude his cousin had just displayed would be his own before too many years. Second, he knew that he had to have a long talk with Master Sensei.

* * *

Kim examined herself in the mirror and applied just a bit more shadow to her eyelids. While she really didn't need to make herself up for this stay at home date with Ron, she wanted to put in at least a little effort. He found her beautiful but she wanted him to know that he was worth the effort of her making herself up.

Happy with what she saw, she looked at her clock. Seven thirty in the evening, just about the right time to bundle up and head over to the Stoppables. She was just reaching for her coat when her Kimmunicator emitted its now seldom heard, four-tone chime.

"What's up, Wade?" Kim picked up the device, rather than the parka.

"I've got a call from Dr. Director," Wade told her. "I know that you said you and Ron didn't want missions tonight, but she just wants some information."

"Wade, can you secure the channel, even from yourself, after you patch us together?" Kim asked, her expression getting dark.

"Uh, sure," Wade had the good manners and intelligence to not ask why.

"Then do so, please and thank you."

"Sorry to bother you over the holidays," Dr. Director announced, as soon as her face appeared on the screen. "But it has come to my attention that you have some familiarity with an entity known as Yono the Destroyer."

"Ron and I faced it during our senior year of high school," Kim fixed the older woman with a stern gaze. "Of course, you should know about this through your alliance with Yamanouchi."

The heroine had to admit that Dr. Director didn't let much affect her. "I should have known that you would learn about this partnership," the older woman shrugged.

"So why are you asking me?" Kim struggled to keep her voice reasonable.

"I am trying to assess just how much of a threat he is," Director admitted. "While those at Yamanouchi make certain claims, I'd like a little confirmation from another source."

"The Yono is on the level of the Lowardians," Kim told her, not able to help a little emotion from creeping into her voice. "And you're smart to mistrust Yamanouchi."

"Kim?" The older woman now looked concerned. "I thought that you and Ron trusted the school."

"We used to," Kim snarled back. "Just as we used to trust Global Justice."

"What problem do you have with my organization?"

"That you knew that Yamanouchi had returned Fiske but didn't see fit to let me or Ron know," Kim yelled into her microphone.

To her credit, Dr. Director at least looked a little chagrined. "I respected Master Sensei's request to keep this information secret," she informed the younger woman. "Lord Fiske was physically incapacitated when he was recovered and was, and still is, under the direct observation of a school full of capable martial artists. However, your knowledge requires me to ask how you learned about Fiske's status."

"Master Sensei announced it to Ron by manipulating the two of them into a life-or-death fight," Kim grated, doing her best to keep the volume down. Her parents were still at home.

Kim immediately decided that either Dr. Director didn't know about the fight or that she was a very capable actress; her eye widened and a shocked look appeared on her face. "Are either of them badly injured?"

"Ron is bruised, but he'll heal," Kim told her. "I don't know about Fiske and I really don't care."

"I didn't know about this," Dr. Director told the younger woman. "And I promise I'll discuss this situation with Sensei, very shortly."

"That's not all," Kim was furious. "Sensei told Fiske that Ron beat the Lowardians."

"I knew about this," Director admitted. "It was part of his rehabilitation, teaching him that the power he was pursuing was out of his reach specifically because he was pursuing it."

"But because of this, Ron is in more danger!" Kim countered. "We discussed this before, when we decided to credit Drakken with the victory so that we could live normal lives."

"Fiske remains confined at Yamanouchi," Director pointed out.

"And you think he'll never escape? He's gotten into and out of the place more than once, he can get out again!"

"But what if when he leaves, he's a better man?" Director asked. "Someone who no longer uses his knowledge and skills for his own selfish and destructive desires, but will use them for a higher purpose?"

"I'd say you're not seeing things clearly! He's tried to kill me in the past and has tried to kill Ron more often than once! He threatened children at the space center and ordered his monkeys to throw Hana into a volcano! He's obsessed with the Mystical Monkey Power and can't handle the fact that Ron has as much of it as he does!"

"You're young," Director's temper was showing, as well, but she struggled to control it. "You don't know how people can change when they finally see the truth."

"Dr. Director," somehow, letting some of the rage out had left Kim able to speak in a more reasonable tone. "I honestly appreciate all that you, and your organization have done for me. Two years ago, I needed help and not just any counselor would have believed that I had been turned to stone. Ron and I are now engaged and that might not have happened without the very effective and discrete help you provided."

"A few weeks ago, we realized we needed similar help for Ron," Kim continued. "Again, you appeared ready to provide this help, but now I find out that you shared the news. Yes, I know that Sensei is your ally but you know how sensitive this is! You know what could be at stake if the wrong people were to discover that Ron is sometimes capable of...what he is."

"I understand why you feel betrayed and angry," Dr. Director assured her. "I apologize about sharing information with Sensei and I promise it will not happen again. I can also assure you that I intend on getting to the bottom of Sensei's treatment of your part...your fiance. In the meantime, you have admitted that Yono represents a significant threat, so..."

"No!" Kim interrupted. "We no longer trust Yamanouchi and we no longer trust Global Justice. You were about to ask us to do something and I cannot trust you. I cannot trust that this won't be just another setup."

"I understand you suspicions," Dr. Director told her. "However, by your own admission, Yamanouchi can be less than honest. I need to know everything you can tell me about the Yono so that I can compare it with what Sensei is telling me."

"I'll put together a recording and send it to you," Kim told her. "But I want something understood right now; if me, Ron, or anyone we know suddenly find ourselves falling through a tube and into an office complex under Middleton, we're going to consider it a kidnapping. If you want to talk to us, talk to us. This grab us and talk thing has to stop."

"Understood," the older woman told her. "We'll be in touch."

The screen went dark and Kim took a few minutes to compose herself. She didn't like arguing with people she respected and she didn't like having her world turned upside down. A couple of short days ago, Yamanouchi and Global Justice were both honest and good organizations. Now, she wasn't so sure. In hindsight, she realized that both entities probably had to get their hands dirty at times. How childish she must have been to think that neither organization would ever deceive her...deceive them. Despite the things that she and Ron had done for the world, at the end of the day, it was still business as usual and they weren't special. The thought was oddly comforting even as it was disturbing.

"Mom, Dad, I'm heading over to Ron's!" She called, picking her coat back up and heading down the stairs. "I might be late!"

"That's fine!" Her father called back. "Date night tonight?"

"No," she answered. "He's taking care of Hana watching duty so his parents can take a night out. I thought I'd keep him company."

"That's sweet of you, Kimmie-cub," James looked up slightly from the technical manual he was reading. Her mother, on the other hand, gave her a slightly knowing smile.

Pulling on her gloves and hat, she stepped out and started the short walk to the Stoppables. The night was beautifully clear; there was no moon and the cold air made the stars especially bright. While the sidewalk was clear, the lawns were blanketed with snow that reflected the multitude of Christmas lights that the various homeowners had set up for display. The peaceful and happy scene helped calm her, even as she picked up her pace a little to get out of the cold. She arrived at the Stoppables just as Ron's parents were climbing into their car.

"Ronnie said you'd be coming by to keep him company," Mrs. Stoppable paused to give the redhead a big hug. "I'm so happy that I'm going to be able to call you my daughter soon."

"We're going to get through college first," Kim reminded her of the conversation the combined families had the previous evening, during the big reveal.

"That time will fly by," the older woman assured the younger. "But where are my manners? We're standing outside in the cold. Go in where it's warm and if Ronnie isn't a proper host, he'll be hearing from me later."

Kim just smiled and held the car door for her future mother-in-law. Once the vehicle pulled out of the driveway, she strode purposefully to the Stoppable's door. Her long friendship with Ron meant that she was perfectly comfortable, and welcome, to walk in with only a perfunctory ringing of the bell. Of course, it was chaos inside.

Hana had spent another half-year with very limited contact with her brother and was determined to make up for it. At the moment, she and Ron were playing a game that was some sort of bizarre mixture of chasing each other around the house, pausing to read books, then chasing each other gain...all under Rufus' watchful eye.

"KP!" The little girl, who hadn't seen her since last night, broke off from her playing and jumped into the redhead's arms. Kim twirled the girl around; while Hana was a precocious toddler now, she was just as adorable as when she had first come to the Stoppables. She just had a great deal more energy.

As soon as Kim set the little girl down, she was back playing with her brother. Ron had barely a moment to greet his fiance before the tyke had him running and reading throughout the house, once again. Bemused at the nature of this game, Kim made her way to the couch, where Rufus was watching the Snowman Hank marathon.

"Do you understand what they're doing?" She asked him.

"Nope," he admitted. "Having fun."

Kim had to admit that the two of them looked like they were enjoying themselves, so she settled onto the couch next to the mole rat. She wasn't much of a Snowman Hank fan, so she found herself watching Hana and Ron, whenever they tore through the living room, as much as the television. As much as Ron was putting on a brave face for his sister, it was clear that he was still hurting from the beating he had taken at Fiske's hands.

A frown found its way to her face with this reminder. For most of her heroine career, she had been able to count on Global Justice and had always assumed that she would work for the organization once she graduated. Now, she was having doubts. The betrayal hurt and the fact that Dr. Director had shared her and Ron's secrets with Yamanouchi meant that she couldn't trust that organization, either. She should be feeling isolated, alone. She was with Ron, Hana and Rufus. Her folks were a couple of blocks away and the Stoppables would be back in a few hours. She was planning on meeting up with Monique and Tara the next day and one press of her Kimmunicator's button would put her in contact with Wade.

She was far from being alone.

Ron and Hana had been playing hard all day, so it wasn't long before Hana began to get drowsy. Soon, the little girl was in her pajamas and sitting on Ron's lap while he read her a story. Her eyes got heavier and she drifted off while Ron was still reading. Kim could only smile as her fiance, with Rufus riding on his shoulder, carried Hana upstairs to what used to be his room.

"Rufus likes to sleep with her," Ron explained, when he returned Rufus-less. "He's sort of like her own, little teddy-bear. Isn't that a little odd?"

"And Rufus crashed with you until you were what, eighteen?" She asked.

"Okay, I guess I'm not the one to talk about it," he admitted.

"Ron," she patted the couch next to her. "We need to talk."

"No!" She protested, when his eyes flew wide and a distraught look showed on his face. "It's not that! I just got a call from Dr. Director and we need to talk about it."

Ron spent the next few minutes first being reassured that his fiance had no intention of leaving him, then being upset at the conversation she had had with Global Justice.

"I don't think that we can keep doing hero work," Kim admitted. 'Fighting the bad guys means dealing with law enforcement and that means Global Justice."

"And now, Yamanouchi," Ron concluded. "The two of them are allied; an international organization that cooperates with law enforcement around the globe and an organization that has mastered stealth and deception. They could be watching us wherever we go."

"You figured out that the dojo's sensei is a Yamanouchi agent?" She asked.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "But how many of the staff at the college, city officials, or even neighbors are Yamanouchi? Yori told me that graduates are everywhere; back in high school they showed up and gave us tickets to fly to South America. How many just live an ordinary life and report things to Yamanouchi? How many Yamanouchi graduates have set up a network of informants, friends and acquaintances who they can get little bits of information from, then sent it back to the masters in Japan.

"We're not in high school anymore," Kim concluded. "We can't always tell the good guys from the bad guys and the bad guys don't always come out to fight. Maybe it's time to stop the world saving missions."

"KP, you love the missions!" Ron pointed out.

"I love the missions," she agreed. "Because I love helping people. I love helping people who need help. I don't like being manipulated."

"So, what now?" Ron asked.

"I think it's time to find a movie and just chill for a time," she told him. "It's time to get our degrees and decide what we want to do with our lives."

One of the things that Kim liked about Ron was that he didn't have strictly male tastes. He liked romantic comedies as much as she did. Soon, one of them was showing on the Stoppables television while she cuddled up next to him. She knew from experience that recovering from a beating could be tiring, as could keeping up with Hana, so she wasn't surprised when his eyelids started to grow heavy. Well before his parents were expected home he was asleep. She wasn't even slightly tempted to go home, herself.

Her own eyelids were growing heavy and she found this curious. Her determination to be independent, to not need anyone else, had manifested in an inability to sleep while cuddled up with him yet now, with his arm around her and her head resting against his chest, she felt completely at peace and content. Maybe she had grasped a simple truth; she wasn't completely independent. She needed her parents, her friends and her fiance even as so many of them needed her.

She needed him, he needed her. Rather than being concerned about it, she found the idea that the two of them together made something more than just the two of them to be comforting, as she drifted off into a deep and peaceful sleep.

* * *

 _A/N: Again, thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for Beta reading._


	12. Chapter 12

"Ron..."

The sounding of his name, gentle yet insistent, pulled him out of the warm, content cocoon in which he had been resting...physically and emotionally. He opened his eyes and took in the dim illumination of his attic room, and the shadowy form of his fiance pulling on her shirt.

"Your parents will be back in another half-hour or so," she told him. Prompted by the statement, he looked at the clock and realized that the two of them had napped for a good hour after finishing...other activities.

He sighed, but it was a happy sigh. It was good to be young, as he healed quickly. While he sported bruises and was still sore, it was nothing like he had been the last time that Kim had 'kept him company' while he watched Hana, leaving his parents free to enjoy a night out. This time, he had the energy to play outside with his sister for most of the afternoon, making sure that she would fall asleep early and let him reconnect with Kim. It must have worked, since neither the lovemaking nor the napping afterwards had been interrupted by a frantic Rufus, warning them of an approaching child in danger of receiving an inadvertent education.

Still, all good things had to come to an end. If anything good had come out of his beating at Fiske's hands, it was that Kim had become a cuddler again and he enjoyed falling asleep with her in his arms as much as he enjoyed what had driven the two of them to slumber. He felt a little grumpy, wishing she could stay the night. He was pretty sure that the parents...with the possible exception of her father...had all worked out that the two of them were active, despite their attempts at discretion. Still, appearances had to be maintained. As long as the two of them didn't give the adults any reason, they wouldn't delve too deeply into their intimate lives.

"I want to talk about something, once we're back in the living room," Kim told him. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and breezed out his door, leaving him to wonder how the act could energize her so much when it usually left him exhausted. Shaking his head at the mystery of it all, he hauled himself out from his blankets and set about gathering his clothing.

By the time he got down the stairs, Kim was waiting, with a couple cups of hot chocolate, on the couch. A blanket was waiting next to her. Ron smiled, as he knew the drill. He sat on one side of the couch, leaned against the arm while Kim leaned back against him and pulled the blanket to just below her arms, covering them both. Ron gave her some time, realizing that she had something important to say.

"I think we should reconsider the whole 'save the world thing'," she blurted.

"Whoa," he blinked a couple of times. "That's a big jump."

"Maybe it's past time," she answered.

"But, you love helping people and saving the world!" He protested.

"It's always been about helping people," she answered. "But I've started to realize something; the more you help people, the more some of them start looking at it as something you owe them and not something they should appreciate."

"This...doesn't sound like you," he admitted. "You've never been about the thanks or the fame."

"That's not what this is about," she told him. "I still want to help people but I have to realize that we're not teenagers anymore. Back in the high school days, we could drop anything and run off across the world. We still can, to a certain extent, but we're getting more responsibilities. We're taking college courses now and you have teammates that count on you. We can't just vanish for a few days at a time; too many people will suffer, we'll suffer if we do."

Ron kept silent, the long time they had been together telling him that she was still working towards a conclusion.

"I still want to help people, but it can't be the big organizations that are supposed to be doing the helping," she told him. "Yamanouchi, Global Justice, they're manipulating us into doing what they want us to. Someone who's pet is lost, a kid who needs help with algebra, someone who's downstream of a dam that's about to collapse; I still want to help them, but how long can I keep doing this?"

"There's a reason why we pay professional police and firefighters," she concluded. "We need people ready to help at a moment's notice and that means that they can't hold down their own jobs and provide for themselves. We compensate them for their work, just like we compensate teachers, actuaries and auto mechanics. Our parents aren't going to support us forever, so we're going to have to decide just what the limit of doing this is."

"I thought you wanted to join Global Justice," he offered.

"I still do," she admitted. "Despite this betrayal, I still believe in what they do. It's just that I have think of how much of myself I can give to others. Ron, I want to marry you and have a family. It's going to be hard enough to hold down a career and raise a family, how am I supposed to fit missions into that life?"

"I guess growing up means giving things up," he murmured.

"I guess," she sighed. "But maybe we can decide what we give up. I'm not giving you up, that's for sure."

He could only wrap his arms around her and give her a warm hug. She smiled and cuddled back into him a little more.

"I remember before our junior prom," she mused. "Up in your tree house, when I said that it was time to grow up. It's getting time to grow up; running off on missions is something you can do when you're a teenager. When you're an adult, too many people are counting on you for you to just vanish at a moment's notice. If I join Global Justice, maybe I'll still be able to do some good."

"And they might need a physical therapist," Ron added.

"You'll follow me in my career?" She asked him.

"I'll be a physical therapist," he assured her. "I'll be able to work anywhere."

"Hey, no turning into your father," she protested, setting her cup down and rolling over in his embrace. He took the hint and set his cup down, as well.

"I like this revision of the Stoppable family line just the way it is." She leaned in closer and collected her kiss from him.

"Be careful what you wish for," he murmured, when they broke for air. "Remember that this revision of the Stoppable family line includes Shawn."

Kim couldn't help but shudder. "Okay, but maybe the Possible genes will make sure that there's no disaster like that."

"Or maybe not," Ron flinched. "You have to admit, when we start our family, we just might produce someone with Joss's energy, the tweebs' brains, your ability and Shawn's evil."

Kim trembled; partly in laughter and partly in honest concern. "We'll just have to do our best, won't we?"

There was something that was so incredibly enjoyable about this, being able to just lie here close, cuddled up and joking with each other. There were kisses and cuddles, but they felt no need to take it any further; even if his parents weren't due to show up soon. Instead, there was just the feeling of her resting on top of him, her slender frame so warm in his arms, and the certain knowledge that she wanted his arms around her. His eyelids grew heavy again and it was clear that hers were, as well, when a familiar scrabbling sound prompted him to look to the top of the stairs.

Rufus appeared there, where he knew the little guy would. The rodent gave him and his fiance a piercing gaze, then apparently decided that they were decent enough that Hana wouldn't see anything that she shouldn't. Sure enough, moments after the rat, the toddler ambled to the top of the stairs, herself.

"Couldn't sleep, Hana?" Ron asked her, as he and Kim dis-tangled themselves from each other and their blanket.

Instead of answering, the little girl pitter-pattered down the stairs and clamored onto the couch with them. It wasn't fair, but Ron decided that being unbearably cute meant that you didn't have to answer certain questions. Rather than complaining about the light being on or them being too loud for her to sleep, she just squirmed her way in between him and his fiance and pulled the blanket up to her chin. Rufus quickly scampered onto her lap, and she cuddled him the way most little girls would cuddle a kitten.

Ron couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. Kim giggled softly and leaned across the little girl to rest her head on his shoulder. Ron tilted his head slightly, resting his head on top of hers. This was heaven; sitting here, peaceful and content, with Kim, Hana and Rufus. Despite last week's beating, despite the certain knowledge that their lives were going to change drastically in the next few years, he just knew that everything was going to work out for them.

A feeling of immense contentment came over him, washing away his worries and relaxing him completely. He wasn't sure when he dozed off, or if the other three were already out before he fell asleep. He only realized that he had fallen asleep when he woke up to the click of a picture being taken, then opened his eyes to see his parents, who couldn't help but record the scene.

* * *

"Master Sensei, Doctor Director of Global Justice wishes to speak to you. She seems...less than pleased at this time."

Master Sensei sighed, but he had learned the folly of punishing the messenger a long time ago. His current aide wasn't to blame for what could turn into a rift in his new alliance. In fact, the young man had performed admirably, giving him a polite, discrete hint that the upcoming meeting wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Then show her in, at once," he instructed the promising, young ninja.

"After turning on the fountains, master?"

"No," Yamanouchi's master couldn't help but offer a pained smile. "Don't keep her waiting. Turn the fountains on once you show her inside."

The young man managed to not show any sort of expression as he scrambled away, as quickly as proper etiquette would allow. A lifetime of being a spy, an assassin, a teacher and an administrator...as well as less savory roles, meant that he was capable of regaining his even demeanor in the few moments he had available. All too soon, Dr. Director stormed into his study, with his aide pursuing her in a desperate effort to show her into a room that she had already entered.

"I don't believe that introductions will be necessary," he waved the boy out of the office, an act that the young man must have considered to be a reprieve from execution.

"Introductions, no," the one-eyed woman agreed, while the young man fled the scene. "But explanations, yes."

"We are allies," he pointed out to her guest. "Neither of us is the master, so neither of us need justify all of our actions to the other."

"But something this serious?" Dr. Director demanded.

"Just to make things clear between us, may I assume that you are referring to the confrontation I facilitated between Lord Fiske and Mr. Stoppable?" Master Sensei noted that water was beginning to flow through his fountains. "That was over three weeks ago."

"Damn right!" His guest snarled. Then, her eye widened slightly. "Does that question mean you've done something else to irritate me?"

"I am a master of a Ninja organization," he reminded her. "I do offensive deeds on a daily, if not hourly, basis. My goals _must_ be achieved, even if I offend those I value and respect. Is it not the same with you?"

"I consult with those who volunteer their services to me!" She growled at him. "I'm honest with them!"

"Your methods are different from my own," he observed. "Perhaps we can be seated and speak in a productive manner. Volume and profanity will not be helpful here."

He noted that Dr. Director picked up the implied insult but had the self-control to stifle her immediate response. She was passionate, but that passion did not rule her.

"Of course," she managed to say, through clenched teeth. She dropped to a mat without waiting for him, showing with her body language that she was most upset.

He lowered himself and broached the subject. "Did young Stoppable tell you this?"

"No, Kim Possible did," Dr. Director told him. "And before you complain that you swore him to secrecy, let me point out that you're hardly in a position to criticize. You told him that you wanted him here, to test the Mystical Monkey Power. Not telling him that he was about to get into some sort of duel with Fiske was hardly honest."

"I sometimes forget whom I am dealing with," Sensei admitted. "In Japan, obedience to one's master is a cultural norm. I do not always take into account that young Stoppable is neither a Yamanouchi nor Japanese."

"Neither am I," Director interrupted his musings. "I am your ally, which means you owe me at least the courtesy of informing me when you take an action that will affect a potential agent that I am attempting to recruit."

"I was not aware that you were recruiting Mister Stoppable," Sensei kept his tone mild, in contrast to Director's tightly controlled snarls.

"Let's not play idiots to each other," she retorted. Sensei's subtle baiting had prompted her to exert an iron control over herself. "Anything that involves Stoppable inevitably involves Possible; just like anything that involves her automatically involves him. You realize that they're engaged now?"

"I was aware of this," he noted. "But I find it curious that you find this acceptable for employees and potential employees. At Yamanouchi, while we encourage certain friendships we do not approve of romantic attachments. Friendships within the organization strengthen bonds of comradeship and such friendships with those outside of our organization give us tools with which to monitor other organizations. Romances, on the other hand, divide loyalties; forcing agents to choose between lovers and Yamanouchi itself."

"Global Justice works differently," she countered. "We recruit...somewhat openly...so we want our agents to have full lives, including friends and families, so that potential recruits can see that they don't have to sacrifice such to serve Global Justice."

"And now you insist that I follow the same path?" He inquired. "May I remind you how long my organization has lasted, while yours is still in its infancy?"

"I made no such suggestion," she countered. "And you are deflecting from the topic. You took an action that you knew would hinder my ability to recruit the two without consulting with me first."

"I was unaware that you were going to attempt to recruit Stoppable," he told her.

"Master Sensei, how did you think you were going to keep Stoppable's loyalty?" She asked him. "His personality will not easily adapt itself to becoming an instructor at Yamanouchi. Did you really think that he would spend the rest of his life ready to drop everything and rush to Yamanouchi's assistance whenever you uncovered a crisis that needed his intervention?"

Master Sensei didn't reply, but his uncertain look gave away that he was planning one of the two situations that his guest had just assured him wouldn't work.

"It doesn't work that way," she noted. "Young people such as he acquire friends, careers and families that they are reluctant to set aside. Were you planing on discretely undermining his ability to acquire these things?"

Again, Sensei remained silent, but that silence spoke volumes.

"I could have presented something better to you," Dr. Director told him. "And perhaps I still can, if you'll work with me. Imagine Kim and Ron, married to each other and both members of Global Justice. Both receive regular training, pay and medical care. Both have wills and life insurance policies, so when they go into the field, they know that their kids are going to be cared for if they don't come back."

"So you purchase your agents' loyalty?" He asked, his voice mild.

"Is that so dishonorable?" She asked. "We spell out their duties and benefits before they sign. After that, they sign for a series of five year commitments. So, arere we buying their loyalty, or are we earning it?"

"You make a valid point," he admitted. "And perhaps I handled Stoppable and yourself poorly."

It was growing more clear to him that young Stoppable wasn't going to forgive his manipulation any time soon. He also suspected that Yori had been correct; had she tried to seduce the young man she would not only have failed, it would have backfired. Stoppable was a westerner, which meant that it would be best to allow a western organization, led by a westerner, to try to patch up the relationship.

"Master Sensei, just what were you trying to accomplish by your actions?" Dr. Director had outwardly calmed herself, and seemed to have controlled her internal anger. It was clear that the woman had plans for Stoppable, even if those plans merely supported her plans for Possible.

"The secondary lesson was for Stoppable," he informed her. "To teach him that he is a righteous wielder of the Mystical Monkey Power. In this, I may have failed. It is likely that he is too angry with me, and by extension all things Yamanouchi, to consider the lesson I tried to teach." The old man paused. "Perhaps there was a third lesson, an unintended one..."

"A third lesson?" Director prompted, once it became clear that the old man wouldn't speak of his own accord.

"Sometimes, when you teach a lesson, you wind up learning one," he noted. "Forgive me if I don't detail this until I learn if it is truly a lesson to be learned or a bit of old man's whimsy."

"That sounded mysterious," she noted, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"That is what wise old masters do," he offered a slight smile. "We hide our confusion with riddles. Back to the matter at hand. I truly apologize for taking such a drastic action without consulting with you. In the future, I will seek an accord before doing anything that could potentially...damage...personnel that you have an interest in."

"That's all I can ask for," she took a deep breath, held it for a second, then exhaled slowly. Upon completing this simple exercise, she had released the last of her anger and tension. "With that being said, what information do you have on Yono's moves?"

"Very little," Sensei admitted. "I'm sure that you know how the espionage and intelligence work; you sift for bits and pieces and try to fit these fragments together. Our information is clearly incomplete and some of what we have is undoubtedly false leads that have nothing to do with the Yono. However, I have a staff meeting scheduled in roughly an hour and you are welcome to attend. Any information you offer will be appreciated."

"Of course," Dr. Director wasn't completely mollified, but she was willing to give her host the benefit of the doubt. She would see if Fiske's change in demeanor was worth the risk of alienating Stoppable and Possible.

Apparently, Sensei was trying to sell her on the concept. Before attending the meeting, he led her to another spy-perch and had her observe another training exercise. This was a group of advanced students, and Fiske was included. The man clearly favored one of his sides, but seemed to be on the mend. However, his attitude had changed, considerably.

The first time that Dr. Director had seen him at Yamanouchi, the nobleman held himself above, and showed disdain towards, all around him. The second time, he seemed to have taken an interest in those closest to him; those who's performance affected his circumstances. Now, he seemed to take an active role in training those around him. While the instructor corrected and critiqued some students, Fiske assisted others. He answered questions and gave advice.

"That's an awful big change of attitude for a single butt-kicking," Director whispered.

"Which is why I don't fully trust him yet," Sensei quietly chuckled. "But it wasn't the physical beating that caused this change; it was the undisputed proof that the path he was following in life was leading him astray." The old man paused a moment. "I have never struggled with alcoholism, but I have dealt with those who have. Those who have recovered told me that you don't fully understand how much of a problem you have until you are forced to face the consequences. It is when you wake up in your own vomit, late for work and with nobody to help you clean yourself up before facing your boss, that you realize that you must change. It isn't until your child is crying because you didn't take her to the zoo, like you promised, and nobody makes excuses for you, that you realize how much your lifestyle is harming those around you."

"And Fiske..." Director prompted.

"It wasn't until he realized that the Mystical Monkey Power couldn't be used to defeat young Stoppable, that Stoppable was a match for him and that the boy has access to the power, due to his reluctance to utilize it, that he realized that pursuing this power had gained him nothing." Sensei answered. "Faced with the fact that he wasn't going to achieve the goal he had worked so hard to achieve, specifically due to the way he was trying to achieve it, that he realized that he must change his very nature." The old man sighed. "He may need more reinforcement in this lesson...in fact, I am certain that he will...but such reinforcement will not be nearly so harsh as the initial lesson. He has seen the path he must take, now he will only require the occasional nudge, much like everyone."

"What about his situation?" Director asked him. "Is he still doomed to Yono's hell?"

"At this time, yes," Sensei sighed. "But that is not necessarily a reason to despair. While his deal has been struck, following a righteous path often takes unexpected turns and has unforeseen consequences. Perhaps he will find his own salvation, or perhaps such salvation will appear to him. The Yono is every bit as covetous as Fiske ever was and that very greed could turn against him. We can only continue to oppose him and hope."

By then, it was time to leave for the meeting. Sensei was in the habit of using seldom-used paths through his school, and showed his ally one of them, so that he could appear suddenly where he needed to be. With only a few people spotting the pair, they were quickly at the meeting hall and noting everyone who arrived. Director studied Fiske intently when he walked in. She quickly noted that he wore a slightly more ornate training gi than he had the last time. His face, although showing a certain strain, reflected a more serene expression than she had ever seen. When Sensei called the meeting to order, he showed no arrogance or rebellion, but offered what information he had and commented on what others brought in.

There has been an interesting development among the less than respectable young men of Lintong District of Shaanxi," Master Tsukiakari announced. "They have taken to wearing new tattoos. I didn't have time to consult with the master of mysteries of the master of the archives before this meeting, so I do not know if this is significant."

"What do these tattoos look like?" Sensei asked him.

The master spy, showing a nod to the modern world, clicked a button that projected an image on the wall. To Director's practiced eye, it was a photo of a man's shoulder, that had been taken surreptitiously. It also made Fiske gasp.

"Mister Fiske," Master Sensei prompted the man. "It seems that this image is familiar and unpleasant to you."

"Right on both accounts, Master Sensei," Director noted that the Englishman treated the Master of Yamanouchi with a great deal of respect. "It also shows that the Yono is, indeed, active in the area."

The nobleman held up his hand, demonstrating the Yono's mark on the palm.

The mark and the tattoo were almost identical.

"An act this overt signals that the Yono is about to move," Sensei noted, showing no excitement. "We must prepare. Master Jinmon, you will recall all strike teams as soon as possible. We shall seek to obtain passage for all possible personnel to China. I fear that the Yono will move very soon."

"I can help in that regard," Dr. Director spoke up. "My organization has good relations with the People's Republic. We've recovered certain antiquities for them in the past. With your permission, I will state that we seek to prevent a theft of such artifacts, with the assistance of a Japanese school. That is actually close enough to the truth to be believable."

"I would greatly appreciate such assistance," Sensei told her. "Please do so, at once. On the other hand, I have a much more unpleasant task to perform."

The old man rose to his feet, signaling that the meeting was at an end and prompting everyone else to rise. He did not offer any pleasantries, but walked swiftly from the meeting hall and to his study, making no effort at stealth. Once he reached his study, he told his attendant that he required utmost privacy. Taking a deep breath, the picked up a telephone and dialed, while reminding himself of the time difference between Japan and Colorado.

* * *

Phone calls in the middle of the night never brought good news.

This was one of the first things that Ron had learned in his sidekick career. After about eight in the evening, the possibility of the sound of a ringing phone heralding good news took a precipitous dive. By ten at night, the best you could hope for was a wrong number or possibly a butt-dial. A quick glance at his clock told him that it was midnight, which meant that the chance of a butt-dial was pretty low. Hoping for a wrong number, he looked at the phone and realized that the hope was pretty much...hopeless.

"Yeah?" He answered, forgoing any manners.

"Young Stoppable," Sensei's voice sounded in his ear. "It troubles me to call you at all, much less at this late hour, but Yamanouchi's need is great."

"Oh, I'm sure that it is," he hoped that the cultural differences, as well as the satellite connections, would pass his sarcasm through. "Just like you needed me to test an aspect of the Mystical Monkey Power."

"I will be honest, we potentially face the Yono," Sensei told him. "He could walk the Earth again. We need the Mystical Monkey Power to defeat him. We need the Mystical Monkey Power to oppose him and that means the chosen one."

"So where is this supposed fight going to take place?" The younger man demanded.

"In China," Sensei told him. "At the tomb of the first emperor."

"Isn't that convenient? The Peoples Liberation Army is the largest army in the world. The tomb of the first emperor is probably a cultural landmark for them, but I have to come halfway around the world to deal with this."

"Young man, I know that we deceived you in the past," Sensei explained. "But this time..."

"Is just like all the rest," Ron interrupted him. "The time before you put me up against Fiske, we came out to Yamanouchi to learn about Hana, only to find out that the Yono was about to attack the school...no warning about it. You invited me there, telling me it was an exchange trip, to throw me into this mystery. I'm tired of this, Sensei! I'm tired of the lying to get me where you want me, away from my friends and away from my country!"

"This time, I am speaking truthfully!" The old man snapped at him. "Contact Global Justice or have your own computer expert confirm what I'm about to say! The petty criminals and footman of the various Chinese organized crime syndicates in that area have taken to wearing tattoos, all very similar to the one which the Yono marked Fiske with when he chose his dark path. The Yono is attempting to walk the Earth, young man, and it seeks to throw off the chains that its banishment placed upon it. Should it succeed, the power that we faced at Yamanouchi will be loosed upon the world! There will be no banishment when its summoner is defeated, it will be free to rage across this planet!"

"Have you ever heard the story about the little boy who cried wolf?" Ron asked him. "When my dad was in school, they taught it to all of the students. My teachers didn't teach me, but dad read it to me. Right now, I don't care if you're telling the truth or if this is just a false alarm. You've cried wolf too many times for me to come running across the world again!"

"Stoppable-san..." Sensei protested, but he realized that the connection had been severed. He sought to dial again, but realized that it would be of no use. Sighing, he reflected that trust was a commodity easily lost. Instead of trying to call a young man who would be unwilling to listen to him, he opened a browser on his computer and searched for a tale of a little boy who cried wolf.

* * *

It was a risk, but Yono took a certain delight in the gesture. Actually, the risk was very slight; Emperor Qin Shi Huang's tomb was massive, so it was a relatively easy task to find a point at which he could gaze upon his goal while remaining away from eyes he did not wish to see him. Still, this confused his followers as he was Yono the Destroyer, not Yono the Symbolic. A little confusion was a good thing; it kept such followers from becoming complacent.

The time was close at hand. Looking upon the resting place of the mortal who had helped to bind him, he exerted his will. Across China, men who bore a certain tattoo suddenly felt an undeniable compulsion to travel to Xi'an. It would take many days, perhaps even a week, for such men to arrive. Even then, they would hardly be an irresistible force when they assembled. That was fine; Yono would make additional modifications when they were within its reach.

Yono frowned slightly, upon feeling a resistance to his summons. He couldn't track the location but he was certain that he knew the source and location of the one who resisted. Montgomery Fiske was undoubtedly at Yamanouchi and protected by some sort of warding charm. Such warding would have been sufficient while Yono's influence was still contained within Yono's hell. However, Yono now fully occupied this form that Dr. Hall had created. While it still hadn't gained the full might it would realize when it shattered the imperial sepulcher, it was easily able to overcome the charm currently protecting his rightful property. Smiling, Yono exerted its will.

Being known as Yono the Feared, as well as Yono the Destroyer, would be a nice addition to the title.

* * *

"Yori, we are summoned."

The young woman in question looked up from her meditation as her door slid to one side, revealing her cousin. It was a testament to how dire the situation must be that he called to her through the door and opened it before receiving her response.

Yori struggled to make herself care.

"The nature?" She asked. Despite her indifference, she did not allow her reaction to suffer. She was quickly on her feet and facing her friend and kinsman.

"The usual," he shrugged. "Dark forces are on the move and we must rally to face them."

Her cousin knew her well and could sense her disquiet through her stern discipline. It was like him to use humor to address the situation.

"Yamanouchi requires our strong arms and skills in combat, with a little bit of infiltration, this time. We are students and aspiring scholars, about to head to China and inexplicably find ourselves where some butts need to be kicked."

"Indeed," she nodded, in no mood to rise to his humor. She had taken her cue from his attire and selected similar clothing. Not bothering with modesty, she quickly assumed the identity of a studious university student. It was her nature to speak with her cousin while preparing and he noticed her sullen silence.

"Just another day for the glorious, Yamanouchi ninja," he declared, trying to lift her mood. "Villains to be vanquished, dark forces to be countered and the world to be saved."

"Yes," she agreed. "To save the beautiful world, so that all but us can pursue their lives."

* * *

Dr. Director took a deep breath and worked her shoulders. In the era of instantaneous, handheld communications, bringing Global Justice's resources into play should have been a simple action. She knew that she was kidding herself; an operation like this wouldn't have been simple, even sitting in her office. Even in the information age, people wanted to see another person's face when making a decision that could make or break a career. Still, the job was done. A certain minister, highly placed in the People's Republic, had extended a welcome to some Japanese and western students who were eager to learn about the first emperor's tomb. Another invitation had been extended, even though she suspected that the young couple wouldn't answer.

Yamanouchi was taking care of transportation, which was on the way at this time. It may be tradition to walk to and from the school, but when it was time to act, Master Sensei wasn't going to be governed by ancient custom. The Japanese Defense Force was providing some helicopters to shuttle the strike force to Tokyo International, while tickets on a passenger liner were being purchased. Provisions were also being made for the transport of surveying tools and other baggage, items which the Yamanouchi Ninja could use as weapons. With all preparations being taken care of, Dr. Director found herself with an overabundance of a commodity she seldom had; free time.

At Global Justice, she would never allow herself to be seen wandering aimlessly. As a guest of Yamanouchi, she was free to simply walk about, taking in the ancient architecture while preparing herself for an unusual confrontation. She had never fought against a supernatural entity trying to manifest itself in her dimension before; and there wasn't exactly a cornucopia of records of such events to study. She could only prepare for a violent confrontation and trust that Yamanouchi wasn't simply putting on an air of false confidence.

Turning another corner, she found herself in an exercise yard, but she wasn't alone. Fiske was present, performing kata. She paused and observed the nobleman for a short time, reflecting on how he had changed. Prior to his vanishing, he had been a blip on Global Justice's radar; as an international criminal, he had been a person of interest but as a criminal who didn't deal in drugs, weapons or human trafficking, he didn't warrant close scrutiny. Now, she scrutinized the man.

While graceful and well-balanced, his form was slightly off; clearly a result of his not-quite-healed injuries. Yet his movements were not those of a man seeking maximum striking power; they were those of a man who was seeking balance and calm. As Sensei said, the moral lesson he had absorbed during the confrontation more than made up for the physical damage.

"It seems that you find yourself without a task," his voice jolted her out of her reverie. She was momentarily nonplussed, being caught daydreaming, but quickly recovered.

"I seldom find myself with nothing pressing to accomplish," she admitted. "I find waiting for a violent confrontation to be worse than the confrontation itself. Is that why you're performing katas, Lord Fiske?"

"Indeed," he nodded. "But I believe that we gave each other permission to use our first names the last time that we spoke. Do you still find this acceptable?"

"Yes I do, Monty." She paused. "If I may be so bold, the attitude you displayed at the meeting was remarkably different from those you have shown previously."

"I'm sure that Master Sensei has told you how he sought to teach me," he answered. At her nod, he continued, "I realized that I had been pursuing a goal for the wrong reasons and in the wrong way. I am a stubborn man, Betty, and I suspect that nobody reacts well to being told that his life's goal and work were self-destructive. In theory, my opponent could have drawn upon the power I sought so ruthlessly and for so long to destroy me. Instead, he was reluctant to use it because he feared becoming what I sought to become. It was knowing that the power would embrace him and not me that led me to take a long, hard look within myself. I did not like what I saw."

"So you seek to change your ways?" She asked.

"It isn't as noble as it sounds," he chuckled. "As an archaeologist, if you learn that your practices are destructive, you adjust them. If you learn that your goal is meaningless, you stop pursuing it. It's a pity that I haven't learned this lesson until it was too late."

"There must be something that can be done," she protested. "I'm not up on religion, but I've received a crash course in the fact that the supernatural is real. There has to be something that can be done to save you from..."

"The Yono," Fiske finished for her. "I'm afraid not. Certain bargains, once struck, can only be dissolved by the agreement of both parties. I sold my soul to the Yono and he provided the service agreed upon. I can only be released if the Yono himself removes the mark on my hand. I could sever it myself but it would simply reappear somewhere else on my person. Should I embrace one of the world's major religions, since such joining would be motivated by personal gain, I fear I will not manage to avoid this fate."

"Is there any reasoning with it?" She asked him.

"I can either convince another to give up their soul in exchange for mine, or I can trick Yono into removing it," he answered. "I will not condemn another to what I embraced and Yono has been around much, much longer than myself, so I doubt my ability to trick it. I am doomed to return to its hell, but I can at least provide some resistance while I can, perhaps inhibit its ability to entrap others."

"A very noble endeavor," she noted.

"Not exactly," he offered a self-depreciating chuckle. "Such a course of action isn't an altruistic effort to save others as much as it's harming the Yono in the only way available to me."

"And modest, as well," she now smiled at him. "Monty, I have to admit, I find you intriguing."

Dr. Director had seen Montgomery Fiske when he was angry, she had seen him acting arrogant and disappointed. She had never seen him completely shocked before that moment.

"I...err...admit to finding you...appealing," he finally managed to say. "Perhaps if the circumstances were different..."

"The circumstances are what they are," she told him. "Life has taught me to deal with the cards I've been dealt, not to waste time wishing for a better deal. I would think that you would have learned the same."

"Of course," he admitted. "Betty, I indeed have an interest in you. Unfortunately, I...I..." His face showed confusion, followed by shock, then pain. "The Yono! He's awake!" He gasped.

Fiske held up his left hand, displaying the Yono's mark glowing on his palm. A medallion, which the man kept attached to his arm, suddenly shattered.

Betty Director could only stare in horror as Montgomery Fiske began to _change_.

* * *

 _A/N: Again, thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading._


	13. Chapter 13

Dr. Betty Director was not an inexperienced person. During her career, she had dealt with the outlandish plots that both Professor Dementor and Dr. Drakken could come up with. She had rallied her resources and allies, first in an effort to resist the Lowardians and then to deal with the aftermath of their attack. She had seen some of the secrets at Area 51 and knew that she had only seen the outer layers of the what could be found there. Recently, she had realized that the supernatural was real. However, she had never thought she would see something like this.

Montgomery Fiske was changing, clearly against his will. He screamed as fur emerged from his skin; as his arms stretched and his legs contracted. By the time his face elongated into a muzzle, his screams had changed to roars. Finally, the changing stopped, leaving what he had become to glare balefully at her.

"I need assistance!" Dr. Director was far from helpless, but she knew when she was out of her depth. This wasn't a foe to be beaten, it was an ally to be recovered. "Lord Fiske, Monty, can you hear me?"

The creature seemed to recognize the names, but it didn't much like them. The muzzle opened, revealing a maw full of fangs. The howl that emerged from the throat was almost human; but more like the sound of a shrieking monkey or chimpanzee. Claws scratched across the exercise yard's stones, sinking into the gaps. With a solid grip, the creature burst towards her, its arms spread wide to seize her. She dove forward, under the lunging beast, performed a somersault and spun in time to see the creature shaking its head after impacting the wall that had been behind her. It quickly spotted her and crouched again.

It sprang again, lower this time. In response, Dr. Director hopped up slightly, over her assailant's outstretched arms and drove her feet, had onto the top of its head. She performed a front handspring, using the creature's back as a launch point, and again landed on her feet. Spinning to face the foe, she noted it rising from the ground and facing her again. Unfortunately for her, it wasn't foolish.

It now approached slowly, cautiously, on all fours. With its claws, fangs and greater bulk, it didn't need to charge her to kill. Instead, it closed the gap and lashed out with its claws. Director dodged the first and parried the second over her head. She stepped inside the next slash, blocked it and drove her fist into its face. The blow didn't have much affect and it caught her with a backhand and sent her tumbling across the exercise yard. She was quickly on her feet but her left arm seemed reluctant to answer her commands. Again, the creature approached her slowly, but with greater confidence.

"What is this?" A familiar voice demanded. She looked to the side to see Master Sensei, with a young woman, Yori, with him.

"It's Monty...Lord Fiske," Director shouted.

"Interesting," the old man commented.

The creature must have decided that the newcomers were a greater threat; it sprang at the two. With ninja reflexes, the old man and young woman ducked in different directions. Leaving the beast to land between them, where they had been standing a moment before.

"Explain how Fiske became this thing," Sensei requested of her, sounding like a prospective customer requesting details of a potential loan.

"He said something about Yono, then his palm started to glow, a medallion on his arm broke and he turned into this," she answered.

"Interesting," he repeated. With almost bored ease, he swatted aside a couple of slashes and stomped on one of the beast's feet, causing it to hop backwards. "Yori, fetch the Lotus Blade. Dr. Director and myself shall keep Fiske occupied. Hurry!"

Apparently, the simple command to hurry conveyed a certain sense of urgency among Yamanouchi, well beyond what Dr. Director would have expected; the girl rushed off in a blur. Attracted to the movement, the beast sprang after her but Master Sensei intervened and landed a precise strike to its chest, sending it staggering back. Seeing her chance, Dr. Director swept its feet from under it, dropping it to its back and hopping lightly over a flailing claw.

The creature did not stay down long. Dr. Director did not know if it still possessed Fiske's skill and agility, hampered by an unfamiliar body, or if it was naturally nimble. It sprang quickly to all fours and lunged at her again, showing a great deal more control of its movements than it had earlier. She performed a double backwards handspring, getting clear of it and allowing her the space to set herself. She blocked another swipe and kicked it in the chest. However, its short legs gave it greater stability than she had anticipated; it was driven back but wasn't knocked off of its feet. She was dropped, unceremoniously, onto her rump when it spun and used one of its short legs to sweep her feet. It sprang into the air and descended upon her; she knew that she didn't have the brute strength needed to block the oncoming blow.

But then Sensei was there; lifting his robes slightly so that he could deliver a quick, but surprisingly powerful kick into the creature's side. It was just enough to deflect the attack and allow her to roll out of the way.

"It would appear that this creature is recalling Fiske's skill," the man told her, showing no more distress than he would discussing a sporting event. "However, it is certain that his will is not his own."

The creature focused its attention on the old man, allowing Director to leap to her feet. Again, she marveled at Sensei's calm; how he simply flicked up a hand or calmly stepped aside when attacked, showing no emotion other than curiosity...or at least no emotion that she could detect through his facial hair.

Yet, for all his calm and control, Sensei remained an old man. Experience and long practice more than made up for reaction time and speed...to a certain extent. The creature wasn't foolish; the next time it lashed out with a paw, it caught the hand that sought to slap the blow away. Before Sensei could react, claws dug into his flesh and its head lunged forward, sinking fangs into his shoulder. Even iron discipline failed to silence his hiss of pain. Dr. Director reacted quickly, driving a foot into where she assumed the thing's kidneys were located. It was sent sprawling, but managed to toss Sensei in the process. The old man managed to roll with the throw but was noticeably slower getting to his feet. Dr. Director placed herself between him and the creature.

"Master Sensei." The creature addressed the old man. "The relic. You faced me once before and it didn't go well for you. The years are not your friend."

"Yono," the old man's voice was noticeably weaker, but his calm was back in place. "It went even worse for you."

"What's eternity without a few setback's?" The deep voice sounded far too cultured and intelligent for the bestial form that produced it. "The occasional loss makes the gains so much sweeter."

Dr. Director almost gagged when the creature showed obvious relish, first licking the old man's blood from his fangs and then from his claws.

"I suppose you will wish us to taunt one another," Sensei commented, after patiently waiting for it to finish. "Aren't I supposed to hint that I know what you're up to, while you imply that you've already countered my actions?"

Dr. Director struggled to keep her face grim and determined when she saw a shadow move behind the thing.

"Why should we do that?" It chuckled back. "I'm perfectly aware that you're monitoring my activities in Shanxi and I'm not so foolish to hint at how I will counter your actions. Clearly, you have guessed that I'm close to acting, otherwise why would I have exposed myself like this."

"So why are you here?" Director demanded of it, struggling to keep from visibly tracking Yori's approach.

"I'm simply reclaiming my property," it chortled. "But since I am here, why not live up to my title? Damaging Yamanouchi was enjoyable the last time, so destroying it this time will be so much more satisfying."

"So why aren't you destroying the school?" Sensei asked it.

"I'm simply enjoying the spectacle before me," it said. "You are powerful in knowledge and mysticism, but you're still an old man. I'm simply going to stand here and watch you bleed to death. Since I've been getting stronger every second I inhabit this body, your companion will be unable to assist you, as I will easily strike her down if she so distracts herself. If you choose to call for assistance, I'll fight to the death, letting you kill Fiske and return his soul to my hell, while I simply return my will to my current body and continue with my plans. I find the experience to be strangely exhilarating."

"Ah! So it takes time for you to master a body, once in this world," Sensei nodded at the revelation. "And I suppose that it took you longer to posses the body Dr. Hall created for you?"

"Indeed," it chuckled. "It takes greater time and effort to write on a blank slate than simply inhabit a body that belonged to me in the first place."

"Interesting," Sensei mused, although Director could hear his voice weakening. "But we have heard enough. As much as you may wish to kill, simply strike with the flat of the blade and maintain contact."

"What?" The creature demanded. It took Dr. Director a moment to realize that Sensei had just addressed the younger ninja. Yori, on the other hand, did not waste time or breath with a battle-cry. She looked slightly disappointed when she shifted her grip to club the creature, rather than drive the point into its back. Obedient, she did as ordered and the creature screamed in an agony all out of proportion to the blow it received.

Yori was relentless, leaping onto the creature's back, clinging with legs and one arm while keeping the blade pressed against the thrashing and...changing...creature. Realizing what was happening, Dr. Director drove her shoulder into the creature's hips and knocked it to the ground. She wrapped her arms around its legs, inhibiting its ability to dislodge the ninja and her weapon. It howled in pain and frustration, but its struggles grew weaker even as they grew more frantic. Hair was drawn back into the skin, the limbs changed proportion and even though she couldn't see its face, the changing tone of the shrieks told her that its muzzle was altering, as well. Soon, it was Lord Fiske whom she was grappling.

"If any doubted the Yono's power or presence," the nobleman weekly commented, even as he gasped for breath. "I believe that this proves both."

"Quite so," Sensei answered, his voice equally as weak. "I would suggest that Fiske retain possession of the Lotus Blade, for now, and keep it in contact with him at all times."

Yori glowered at the Englishman but shifted her grip and offered him the hilt, while keeping the blade in contact with him.

"I would also request that you summon medical assistance for me," Sensei gasped. "It would appear that my reflexes have slowed while my skin thickness has dropped."

Dr. Director rushed to him to render first aid while Yori made her earlier sprint look lethargic as she ran towards the infirmary.

* * *

Men fled from a hidden basement in Xi'an, while an angry creature roared and raged. The men had converted the basement into comfortable, even luxurious, living quarters for the creature, yet it now shattered the expensive furniture, shredded fine wall-hangings and tore up carpeting. The very walls were not safe; the creature punched through thin paneling and thick wood with equal ease. The men who fled the basement; a strange combination of rough men and academics, could only thank the fates that this section of the city was near deserted at this time of day, and only a faint clamor could be heard at ground level.

After nearly an hour, this faint clamor died down to silence. The men looked at each other; had the Yono regained his temper, had it perished, or had it simply run out of things to break and was now waiting for a brave...or foolish man...to enter and provide something else to be destroyed? Finally a very old man, whose scars bespoke of a hard and violent life, squared his shoulders and marched down the stairs to face the carnage...and the one who had caused it. He found the Yono glaring at a photo of the imperial tomb, one of the few things that was still in one piece. Knowing that the Yono had sensed his presence, he merely dropped to one knee, bowed his head, and waited.

"Three days," the Yono growled at him, tearing the photo in its claws. "In three days, we crush the seal so that all who defy me will feel my wrath!"

The old man knew an order and dismissal when he heard one...which was a prime reason why he had survived long enough to become an old man. He bowed his way out of the Yono's presence, then quickly went to work. While the compulsion to come and fight would be generated by the Yono itself, details had to be addressed. Those who answered the summons needed to be met and conveyed to discrete assembly locations, in order to avoid generating suspicions. They would have to be organized into groups, each led by a local man who knew the plan. Yono might be the master of destruction but he, an old man and faithful servant, would see to it that the violence about to be unleashed would yield the rewards he had been promised.

* * *

Was it manipulation? Could it be anything _but_ manipulation? Ron ground his teeth, read the email yet again and reflected on the fact that Master Sensei had never actually lied to him, so much as he hadn't told the complete truth. That didn't make much difference, as far as he was concerned, but the term "much" was different than "any". Also, Yori had sent both him and Kim the same message, saying that she had done so without Sensei's knowledge. Maybe Sensei knew that Yori would act on her own and was still manipulating people. Even with all of his doubts he was sure of one thing; something big was going to happen in China.

" _The Yono seeks to walk the Earth_ ," he read, yet again. " _It seized control of Fiske and changed him into a beast that attacked Sensei. Only contact with the Lotus Blade returned Fiske to his own body and his own will. We believe that the Yono is raising a horde of such tainted men to attack the First Emperor's tomb and if they succeed, the Yono will be unfettered and free to visit ruin upon all of the world. We go to confront it but we desperately need the chosen one, and his mastery of the Mystical Monkey Power, to counter the Yono._ "

Ron had felt the Lotus Blade change form earlier; a sort of slight stirring in the back of his mind. At the time, he had studiously ignored it, reminding himself that he had turned his back on Yamanouchi, the Lotus Blade, the MMP and everything associated with them. Was he being smart or idiotic for having second thoughts? He wanted to talk things over with Kim but that wasn't a good idea; she had read her own message and had stormed off. The two of them were close but he had learned that bad moods had a certain, twisted synergy; two people's grumpiness combined to become worse than the sum. Instead of talking, he thought about the message.

He had no doubt that the Yono had taken control of Fiske and that the Lotus Blade had countered it. Monty could change its form, so that's probably what he felt earlier. It made sense, as he was sure that Yamanouchi wouldn't trust him to be wandering the school with the blade in weapon form. Ron was also certain that Yori and other Yamanouchi were going to China and that they were going to confront the Yono and some minions. He was also certain that Yori wanted him to help and that she wanted Kim to come, as well. This made him feel a little better, as there wasn't an effort to separate the two of them. Since she had left the transportation up to him, he knew that she wasn't trying to isolate him. So far, so good. It what wasn't said that bothered him.

She had stated that Yamanouchi suspected that the Yono was going to bring a horde. Horde did not sound good. A few, a couple; even many would sound like something that could be managed, but the term _horde_ didn't instill confidence. In fact, it so much didn't instill confidence that it instilled the idea of sitting this one out and letting Yamanouchi and the People's Liberation Army handle things. Satisfied with himself, he leaned back in his chair, confident that the crises would be faced by a power much greater than him.

Like the same power that had dealt with Drakken's diablos. Like the same power that hadn't been able to handle the Lowardians. The same authorities that never seemed to be able to stop Drakken or Dementor were going to stop the Yono?

He dropped his head into his hand. Why was it always him? Hadn't he and Kim earned the right to let proper police, proper soldiers, deal with this? A monkey-demon, who had corrupted a brilliant geneticist and a warped, English nobleman, was going to destroy the tomb of the First Emperor with a horde of creatures so that it could walk the Earth and spread destruction. That wasn't the sort of thing for a couple of college students to deal with. Of course, no Army or police commander would believe it...maybe that's why Kim had to deal with all of the crackpot schemes that the mad scientists had come up with. Oh, the Chinese would probably put a few more cops in the area, but would they be able to stop the Yono? If Yamanouchi was telling the truth, and the Yono won, what would happen then?

He hated logic, it always seemed to box him into positions he didn't want to be in! If he didn't do something, who would? If the Yono won now, would it be possible to beat it later? Sure, Yamanouchi might be manipulating him again, but did he dare take the chance that it wasn't? At the end of the day, who was he? Was he the slacker from high school who had stumbled onto the Mystical Monkey Power and become a football player almost by accident, or had he turned into something else? Was he the young man who would do the tough things when they needed to be done, or was he still the scared boy hiding behind his best friend?

He kept a photo of his family on his desk; he now looked at the confident, trusting smiles on his parents' and Hana's faces. How he hated coincidence.

Sighing, he made a decision he knew he would have to. He lurched to his feet at the same time that he heard a knock on his door.

"Come in." The door flew open, allowing Kim to storm into his dorm room.

"You've decided that you had to go," she told him, rather than asked him.

"Well, yeah..."

"You couldn't have made any other decision," she told him. "I know, figured it out, as well. I've already called Wade, pick up is in ten minutes."

"Kim, if I don't come back..." he tried to say.

"If you don't come back, we don't come back," she told him. "I'm going with you. We're a team and teammates don't leave each other behind."

"Kim, you don't have to..."

"Yes, I have to," she interrupted again. "Just like you didn't have a choice, I don't have a choice. I'm going to back you up on this one. I've got your back, just like you've had mine."

* * *

Dr. Director wasn't a big fan of authoritarian forms of government, but she had to admit that they came in handy at times. She could feel the doubt in the various customs officials' minds, but they had been given their orders and questioning orders wasn't encouraged in their government. Thus, a cover story so thin that a sneeze could punch a hole through it was somehow effective when getting the Yamanouchi students and academics not only into China, but to the tomb in Xi'an.

No doubt, the officials were wondering at some of the odd possessions, such as fans and walking sticks, that some of the party brought with them. They had to be wondering at the odd design of the surveying equipment that the Japanese brought with them and they were certainly scratching their heads that the head of an international crime fighting organization, as well as an English archaeologist, were accompanying the group.

Still, the party was carrying no obvious weapons, so the officials followed their instructions to show every courtesy. The fact that a respected scholar from their own government was taking responsibility did a great deal to ease the officials' minds. Dr. Director knew the score; once you knew that someone else was taking full responsibility, you became a great deal more willing to bend certain procedures.

They weren't out of the woods once they reached the tomb, but Monty had stepped up and taken charge of things. It only made sense, he had conducted countless digs prior to taking up a life of crime, so he was more than capable of convincing the tomb's attendants that he was heading a legitimate investigation. He soon had the Yamanouchi unloading the crates and setting up a surveying operation, convincing all observers that there was great significance to the orientation of various structures, and how it seemed to match other such construction throughout Asia. According to Fiske's story, he was studying how such structures were aligned with various constellations, which conveniently gave the Yamanouchi a reason to remain for a couple of days, if needed.

It also gave the Yamanouchi an excuse to be there at night. Now it was a waiting game, even though Fiske kept everyone working enough to keep the cover story believable. The Englishman made sure to keep several of the Yamanouchi around the entrance to the tomb, ostensibly to maintain survey points but where they could also keep watch for anyone approaching. She also noted that while Fiske had everyone working, they weren't working hard enough to tire the crew. She idly wondered how many times he had put on the farce of a legitimate dig while looting valuables. She then wondered about the Yamanouchi following his lead so readily.

She looked to Master Sensei, who had accompanied them but had taken a seat to watch, his face pale behind his beard and mustache, and talking with the Chinese scholar, Master Lishi. Was he content to have his subordinates follow a fine deception, or was he weakened by his injuries to the point that he was incapable of directing the efforts? After a couple of days of mock labor, she no longer needed to worry about it.

"There are a large number of rough looking men approaching the compound," one of the lookouts reported over his headpiece.

"Could they merely be additional tourists?" Master Lishi asked.

"Doubtful," the ninja on watch's tone was respectful. "They are not accompanied by guides and they are battering past the fence that keeps tourists away from the more sensitive areas...they have just struck down one of the staff members who sought to turn them back!"

"So, the confrontation is upon us," Master Sensei noted. "Yamanouchi, prepare yourselves."

As always, the old man's tone sounded more appropriate for a man ordering tea at a cafe, as opposed to a man ordering his subordinates into a life-and-death confrontation. Yet, the order had a dynamic effect.

With unsettling speed, the surveying equipment was disassembled, then re-assembled to other purposes: Legs for various stands were combined with digging implements to become spears, smaller handles were combined with brush clearing implements to create kama. Other parts became tonfa or sansetsukon. Within minutes, the group of students and academics became an armed band. It was just in time; the rough men overpowered the site's guards and approached the long-sealed entrance. The rough men stopped perhaps twenty yards away from the ninja, giving Dr. Director time to size up her opponents while the two groups glared at each other.

The men were undoubtedly tough: in addition to being underworld figures, they held down physically demanding jobs. There were truck drivers, farmers and a whole lot of manual laborers. They were men who bent their backs to hard work all day, and who had seen their share of brawls and fights. They were armed with ad-hock weapons; clubs, hatchets, spanners and lengths of chain. Yet, they weren't trained fighters; it was clear to Dr. Director that these rough men had gained most of their fighting experience against naive victims. She knew the sort, men who rolled drunks or mugged frightened and outnumbered victims. Maybe they had fought in a couple of territorial disputes, but they had never faced a trained, coordinated force like the Yamanouchi.

But there were a lot of them. They outnumbered the Yamanouchi three to one. Despite the fact that they were clearly not a cohesive unit, having been recently brought together, their sheer numbers and muscle mass was going to make this a near thing. It didn't help that she had no way of knowing how any responding police or additional guards, if and when they showed up, would react. Would such officials see a group of rowdies trying to smash its way into a site of great cultural significance, or would they see Chinese fighting foreigners? Such thoughts were interrupted when the crowd of men parted, allowing a monstrosity to emerge from their midst.

She had seen the creatures that Amy Hall had created to serve her in her Rocky Mountain Lair; primates the size of the mythical Sasquatch. Those creatures had been strong but slow, this one was different. It looked more like an oversize monkey, with longer arms and shorter legs. It's mouth formed a muzzle, which it opened, revealing sharp fangs.

"So, the hidden school seeks to hinder Yono," it rumbled. It's odd face didn't affect it's pronunciation, which was clear and cultured.

"That is why we exist," Sensei answered him. "We cannot deny our purpose."

"So heroic," it sneered in return. "Even the elder master had to come, despite his wounds."

"Thus is the nature of leadership," the old man shrugged. "We all play our parts. Besides, vanity bids me to let you see me with your own eyes."

"Such a fool," it chuckled in return. "I saw you before with Fiske's eyes. Don't you understand that they are my eyes? He gave them to me himself. Did the idiot come with you?"

"I don't deny my idiocy," Fiske announced, as he edged his way to the front of the Yamanouchi line.

"So you still seek to defy me," Yono shook its head. "Even if you win here, you remain my creature as long as my mark remains upon you. Only I can remove it, and I cannot think of anything that would prompt me to do so! If you think that the torments you suffered in my hell were unpleasant before, I can assure you that your futile resistance will only make things worse."

"Such defiance is all that is left to me," Fiske told him. "Besides, it's the right thing to do."

"Such a fool!" Yono snorted. "You find your moral compass too late! Let me challenge your newfound altruism; if you walk away now, I will remove your mark! I do not ask you to defy me or serve me, just walk away from the confrontation and you will be my creature no longer."

Director could see the gears spinning in Fiske's head; the temptation was real. If he left, his soul would be his again; he wouldn't spend eternity laboring for the Yono's glory. The Englishman spent entirely too long glaring at the demon for Director's liking.

"No," he finally said. "I suspect that walking away will only serve your interests. Besides, I don't believe you will keep your side of the bargain."

"So, perhaps you're no longer as foolish as you have been," Yono admitted. "But tell me, how did you throw off my influence?"

Director had to give Fiske credit; he tried to not give up the secret. Yet, the Yono must have had some ability, beyond mortal senses, to detect power.

"Ah, Toshimiru's old blade!" The creature noted. "Most effective! It wards you from my influence only so long as you remain in contact with it. As you are not the chosen wielder, you must hope that he doesn't call for it. Tell me, my pet, where do you have it secreted on your person?"

Again, Fiske said nothing but again, the Yono somehow knew.

"A tekko?" The creature actually snorted in amusement. "Most effective! Kept out of sight yet a usable weapon. Did you have any fantasies of striking me down?"

Fiske remained silent, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Ah, I see I misused you in my hell," the demon chuckled. "I should have made you my jester and let your foolish thoughts and acts of defiance keep me entertained. In fact, when your mortal life is done, that is exactly what you shall be. In the meantime, you and yours stand between me and power. A sophisticated villain would give you all the chance to stand aside, but I am not Yono the Sophisticated! I am Yono the Destroyer! My servants, sweep these fools aside and open the tomb!"

The form of the attack caught Dr. Director by surprise. Back when Kim had sought psychological help after having been turned to stone, she had read the younger woman's report on the encounter. Kim and Yori had apparently tried to fight off the demon, using mundane means. The demon had swatted the two capable young woman aside with frightening ease before exchanging beams of mystical power with Master Sensei. Having reviewed the report, Dr. Director had been ready to dodge sinister beams of evil force, to avoid lighting and lashing winds, even to try to keep her balance if the Earth itself heaved and surged beneath her. She hadn't expected a swarm of rough men, armed with makeshift weapons, to try to simply overrun the Yamanouchi.

Still, this was perhaps better for her; something she fully understood. She no longer had to worry about souls, the proper handling of potential recruits and coming to agreements with allies. There was only the shock to her foot when she jumped up to catch the lead man in the jaw with a kick, the use of the impact to avoid a slashing ax and the handspring that let her regain her balance. There was the feel of the man's wrist in her hand when he slashed at her again, then the jolts to her knee when she caught him, first in the gut and then in the face. There was the quick aim and fire with her wrist-shocker, that dropped another man who was about to club one of the Yamanouchi. There was the sudden realization that she would have been hit from behind, had yet another Yamanouchi not dropped her assailant before she drove an elbow into the side of another man's head and followed it up with a strike to his neck.

The press of bodies lessened, with most of the assailants down. She looked up to see the Yono smirking at the scene, as yet more men formed up behind him. She was confused; this wasn't some silly video game, where the bad guys came at you in increasing numbers. This was fight to the death, and it was in the Yono's interest to overwhelm them. Then, she understood. It was Yono the Destroyer they were facing; the Destroyer took as much delight in his own force's destruction as he did in his enemies'.

"Most impressive," it sneered at the assembled ninja. "Perhaps a greater challenge is called for."

It made no grand gestures, nor did it speak any bizarre spell. However, the tattoos on the men around it started to glow. Director risked a quick glance towards Fiske. The Englishman flinched slightly, as if he had noticed insects crawling on his body. On his hand, the Lotus Blade, shaped as a knuckleduster, seemed to glow slightly. Looking back at the Yono, she noted that the men around him had changed, subtly. Their arms seemed to be longer while their legs had shortened and their faces elongated slightly, giving them all a simian appearance.

"Sweep them aside, my minions," the Yono commanded. "For your sake, I hope you do better than the last group."

The first group of attackers had charged with a roar; this bunch charged with a howl. They were also stronger, Dr. Director jumped over a club swing and landed a hard kick to her attacker's jaw. The man staggered but didn't go down. Concentrating on her first opponent, she dodged attacks from two others and landed a spinning kick on his knee. The man dropped and she finished him with an elbow to his throat.

"My ninja, it appears that mercy is a generosity we can no longer afford." Somehow, Master Sensei's calm statement penetrated the cacophony of melee.

Dr. Director caught her next opponent in a wristlock and used his body as a shield while she took a quick survey of the battlefield. Several ninja, maybe one in four, were down and she didn't have the luxury of determining if they were injured, stunned or dead. The man she was tangling with sought to break out of her grip with unbelievable strength, so she released the hand and kicked his knee, shattering the joint. Nearby, Yori opened another attacker's femoral artery with an almost delicate swipe of a fan and Hirotaka chopped off a hand with a quick swing of a kama. Fiske chose to not change the Lotus Blade into a shape that might be pulled from his grip, but using it as a knuckleduster allowed his punches to send his opponents flying through the air.

She had no more time to contemplate; she landed a roundhouse kick to the temple of another attacking creature, then hit one who was about to maul a stunned Yamanouchi with her shock watch. Yet another one managed to catch her in a bear-hug, but she head butted it and broke its nose, giving her enough room to curl her legs in between them. She gouged its eyes and kicked, freeing herself and sending it stumbling away. Her landing was anything but graceful; a drop onto her butt that made her wince as much at displaying such clumsiness as the jolt to her tailbone. A spear skewered a creature that tried to take advantage of her immobility but Dr. Director repaid the favor, driving an elbow into the throat of another attacker who was about to pound her savior with a large wrench.

She glanced upward again, thinking that she heard a jet engine. It wasn't the case; there were no aircraft above. There were fewer of the Yono's creatures, as the Yamanouchi gained the upper hand. Dr. Director fought yet another one, which had some fighting skill. While it didn't have her level of training, its sheer strength made it a formidable opponent. She wasn't able to disable it with a single strike, it blocked or evaded them, forcing her to wear it down with a dozen, exhausting blows. Her lungs heaving, she noted that the Yamanouchi were victorious again, although depleted.

"This has been most amusing," the Yono's voice declared. "Yet it appears that the time for play is over."

Dr. Director noted that yet another group of rough men had assembled around the Yono. In the distance, sirens sounded, explaining its decision to end things. The authorities were on the way, but would they be in time and would they be able to tell the sheep from the goats?

This time, the Yono made a subtle gesture towards his band. The men changed again, but more drastic than the last time. This time, they turned into creatures similar to the Yono itself, only slightly smaller. Fiske snarled and rubbed at his left hand, like a man who had been stung by a wasp. Director took stock of what was left; she noted Yori and Hirotaka, as well as a half-dozen more ninja. Yono had at least two score of its creatures to throw at them. She exchanged a grim nod with Fiske and the other defenders; they all knew that this was going to be a last stand.

She heard a faint scream of terror up above, but had no time look up; the Yono's creatures were on the attack. She tensed herself, ready to throw herself at the lead attacker when a flash of blue light and a shock wave sent the Yono's creatures sprawling and knocked her off of her feet. When she regained them, she saw Ron Stoppable, surrounded by a blue glow, crouching on the ground where the attackers had been but moments before. Before she could say anything, the whistle of a body moving through the air drew her attention above her.

Kim Possible guided a parachute so that she skimmed just above the ground. With skill and grace, the younger woman released the harness and dropped the last few inches, tumbling and stopping on her feet, right in front of the head of Global Justice.

"All right," the redhead addressed the older woman. "What's the sitch?"

* * *

 _A/N: Again, my thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading._


	14. Chapter 14

"Miss Possible, we're coming up to your goal. I want to thank you again for your assistance a couple of years ago. We were in serious trouble."

"It's no big, major," she assured the pilot. "Once we got the walkers in one place, Drakken was able to immobilize them."

"My nation has the largest army in the world," he reminded her. "The casualties were terrible and would have been worse if they hadn't suddenly left to deal with you."

"Okay, maybe it was kind of big," she admitted. "Anyway, thanks for the ride. Getting here wouldn't have been easy without your influence...what's wrong?" She noticed a sudden, troubled look on the pilot's face.

"There seems to be a disturbance at the tomb," he told her, apparently listening to reports over his headset. "But the reports can't be accurate; something about a large ape leading a horde of smaller apes..."

"Fighting some scholars who happened to be visiting from Japan," Wade's voice finished, from her wrist-mounted Kimmunicator. "It seems that Dr. Director and Master Sensei were telling the truth; at least for the most part."

"You read my email?" Kim demanded of him. "And you listened in on Ron's call from Sensei?"

"I have protocols in place," he objected. "I have voice-recognition software on the recordings and interrogation software on the emails. If anything of a personal nature is discussed, my system deletes the data before I ever see it."

"And then, do you recover it later?" She asked.

"Not usually," he admitted.

"We're going to have to have a serious talk at some point," she sighed. "But not right now. We're going to have to stop that attack."

"You realize that this is taking place on sovereign Chinese territory," the major told her. "This is not your purview."

"Do you think that your nation can scramble enough forces, in time, to protect the tomb?" Kim asked him. "We're just going down there to help protect it."

"The tomb has been sealed for millennia," the major protested. "Nobody is going to get in without heavy equipment and hours, maybe days, of intense labor."

"What's attacking will be capable of going right through the dirt and stone," Ron chimed in. "It's pure evil and worse than the Lowardians. If it gets into the tomb, there might not be a China afterwards."

The major gave him a skeptical scowl.

"Like you said, nobody can get into the tomb without heavy equipment and lots of time," Kim pointed out. "If you don't believe us about what's attacking, at the very worse, you've dropped two people, with no heavy equipment, into the area. Even if we're hostile, how much damage can we do?"

"We'll be over the tomb in five minutes," the major declared, after a moment's thought. "Will you be needing to land?"

"We've got it covered," Kim assured him, patting her parachute.

The major gave a quick nod and the two Americans waited by the side door.

"There isn't time," Ron told her, his gaze far away.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"To parachute," he told her. "There isn't time. I don't know how I know this...I just do."

"It will take longer to land someplace and run or drive here," she protested. "This is the fastest way of getting down there."

"No," he disagreed. "I'll meet you there." With that, he unfastened his harness and jumped out of the aircraft.

Kim lunged after him, but a blue glow surrounded him and he plunged towards the Earth. Whatever came over him hadn't changed him, he still shrieked with fear. He struck the ground, in the middle of a swarm of what Kim could only describe as ape-like men, and sent most of them sprawling. She was relieved to see him immediately on his feet, grabbing and throwing some of the few creatures that were still standing, but then it was time to deploy her chute and sweep in for her own landing. As luck would have it, she wound up standing next to Dr. Director.

"What's the sitch?" She asked the older woman.

"The Yono seeks to overrun us and gain access to the First Emperor's Tomb," Yori answered for Dr. Director. Although irritated for a moment, the older woman realized that Yori would be better able to discuss...unbelievable...circumstances with Kim.

"He has subverted and altered numerous members of China's criminal element," the young ninja continued. "And these creatures are most formidable. The Yono attempted to alter Fiske, but his continued contact with the Lotus Blade allows him to remain human. He is opposing the Yono at this time."

"Or he has become loyal to Yamanouchi," Dr. Director countered. "He's a changed man."

Both Yori and Kim gave her skeptical glances.

"It is vital that Stoppable-san does not call the Lotus Blade," Yori stated. "If he does so, Fiske will be transformed into a beast, larger and more powerful than those you see here, and fully under the Yono's control."

"Got it," Kim nodded.

"So, the Chosen One of Yamanouchi has decided to come and play!" The Yono's voice thundered around them. "So much the better, it will allow me to remove all opposition. Minions, to me!"

More rough men swarmed around the Yono, while those creatures who had been incapacitated but were still capable of movement staggered back to him. The Yamanouchi still standing took advantage of the lull to bandage wounds and clear their wounded from the area.

"So many of them," Kim murmured, seeing the men around the Yono changing. "How can we fight them all?"

"We need not defeat them," Master Sensei informed her. The old man had made a painful walk from his resting place to where the defenders were assembling. "China is most protective of this site, so defenders are certainly on the way. We only need to hold the Yono off until such forces can assemble and arrive."

"Which may not be for several hours," Fiske pointed out. "The Yono has assembled a group beyond what local police can be expected to handle and most soldiers are stationed closer to the nation's borders."

"So it goes back to us defeating the Yono," Dr. Director concluded. "And without the use of the Lotus Blade."

"Why can't we use the blade?" Ron asked.

The Yamanouchi quickly filled Ron in on the situation, while continuing to see to their wounded. The approaching sirens got louder and the Yono became more agitated. Yet, it still addressed them all in a calm voice.

"Perhaps a deal can be struck," it boomed. "Turn Fiske over to me and I will leave. I will not attempt to breach the tomb and I will pledge to not visit my wrath upon either Japan or the United States for the next century!"

"How about Britain?" Fiske shouted back.

"Very well," it sneered back at him. "I will also pledge to not visit destruction upon the British Isles. Choose quickly, as my patience runs short!"

"I do not see an alternative," Fiske told them. "The forces it has at its disposal are too great for us to withstand, without it becoming personally involved. Our choices are damnation for the planet or the chance to put it off long enough to find a solution."

"No!" Sensei snapped back. "It wouldn't be offering this deal if it didn't think it could fail. What does it gain by taking Fiske"

"Perhaps itself?" Master Lishi suggested. "It shows certain powers while inhabiting the body that Dr. Hall created for it. Could it be even more powerful if it has the possession of one who gave himself, body and soul, to it in the past?"

"That has to be it," Dr. Director agreed. "It sees an advantage in taking Fiske."

"Which gives us yet another course of action," the Englishman told them. "We could..."

"You have taken too much time!" The Yono roared. "Now, face my wrath!"

Similar to what it had done at Yamanouchi, over two years ago, something akin to lightning burst from the Yono's hands, struck the ground in front of it, tearing up the Earth. The point of impact swept forwards, towards the defenders and the tomb behind them. Belying his age and injury, Master Sensei floated forward and surrounded himself with blue light. When the lightning struck his aura, it halted. For a few moments, lighting struggled with the bubble, blue against yellow, then the lightning stopped.

"After your attack upon my school, I took the liberty of studying your means of destruction," Sensei informed his assailant, his voice still mild. "It seems that my efforts to find a counter have born some fruit."

Yono roared in rage, a sound that made the Earth tremble. Beams of yellow light, the same that Kim remembered turning her, Sensei and Rufus into stone, burst from the demon's hands. They struck Sensei's bubble of light. While they didn't break Sensei's defense, his light began to dim.

"I am able to withstand the Yono's attacks," Sensei informed those around him. "But not for much longer."

"I guess that's my cue," Ron grumbled, then crouched low.

Almost two years ago, Kim had seen him float into the air before lifting the Lowardian walkers from the ground. This was not that serene ascent. Instead, he launched himself from the ground with a force that sent a shock through her knees, and flew through the air, a blue streak that struck the Yono with a force that shattered windows in the area. Young man and primate-demon rose into the air, clawing and pounding on each other in a horrific display of violent hate. The Yono's creatures stood in silent awe for a few moments and then, as if directed by a single will, turned and charged the Yamanouchi.

If there was anything that could shake Kim out of her shock, it was the bad guys charging the good guys. Despite her doubts about Yamanouchi; and the fact that Fiske was standing with the Yamanouchi, there was no doubt that whomever was standing against the Yono were the good guys. Despite the danger, despite the stakes involved, it was almost a relief. She didn't have to worry about ulterior motives; she only had to worry about the ax that one of the creatures swung at her, then her strike at its knee-joint. She had to dodge a club, then drive her elbow into the side of its head. Instead of wondering what Yamanouchi would gain from this, to her detriment, she could concentrate on her fighting, a skill she had spent years honing against Shego and various henchmen. She shoved a ninja out of the path of a crowbar, then grabbed the wrist that held the implement and flipped the creature over her shoulder. This gave her a few breaths to both take stock of the battle and check on Ron.

Her fiance was still fighting the Yono, but he seemed to be getting the worse of it. The two combatants drifted lower, descending towards the Earth while they tore at each other. Ron wasn't unskilled and when charged with the Mystical Monkey Power, his master of Monkey Kung-fu was incredible; but he was outmatched. He hammered his opponent with his fists and his feet, struck with his elbows and knees, yet the Yono was possessed of a larger body and had claws and fangs. While the Yono was clearly battered, Ron bled from a half-dozen wounds. Neither seemed to notice. Kim tried to fight her way to her fiance, but the press of bodies was too great.

On of the Yamanouchi went down, killed or incapacitated, she didn't know and didn't have time to check. She drove a knee into the head of the creature that had knocked down the young man, at the cost of taking a slash to her forearm. Squaring off against this one, she saw another ninja take a vicious shot to the gut with a club. Before the attacker could finish the woman, Hirotaka was there, knocking her out of the way and breaking its knee. Her own assailant then took her full attention. It had some skill but she used its aggression against it, finally getting it to an all-out lunge that let her duck its arms and drive her fist into its throat. This shot would have dropped any opponent she had ever faced, including Duff Killigan and Shego, but it merely staggered the beast. However, staggering was enough; it was too slow to avoid a spinning kick to the side of its head.

The press had lessened and she found herself close to Fiske, Yori, Hirotaka and Dr. Director. All of the other Yamanouchi ninja, as well as most of the creatures, were down.

"Our fight is meaningless," Fiske declared. "We must assist Ronald. If the Yono proves victorious, it will easily overwhelm the rest of us and attain its goal."

The creatures seemed to agree, as they backed away slightly and formed a wall of bodies between the tomb's defenders and the Yono. More of the creatures were farther away, fighting the police who were converging on the area. Several of the officers were down and the remainder seemed puzzled, not knowing how to deal with what was in front of them. Closer at hand, Ron and the Yono were now grappling, rolling over the ground and tearing at each other.

"We have to bust through the creatures and help Ron!" Kim declared to those around her. As she said this, Ron struggled to his feet and drove a knee into the Yono's face, staggering it back.

"The outcome of such a fight is uncertain," Fiske pointed out. "There is another way." Yono recovered and slashed at Ron, opening the young man's forearm.

"You can't give Ron the Lotus Blade," Hirotaka reminded him. "If you do, you become another creature, maybe we have two Yono's to deal with."

"Only while I live," Fiske pointed out. "Strike me down, and the Yono's possession of me means nothing while I am in it's hell. The blade will be yours to do with as you will."

"No!" To Fiske's shock, it was Yori who rejected the idea. "As much as I despise you, you stand with us. If we turn upon our own, we are as bad as the Yono."

"Who knows," Hirotaka pointed out. "This might be it's plan, to get us to off you."

"Doubtful," Fiske snapped back. "I am the Yono's creature. For all we know, my being alive and on Earth may be what's anchoring it here. Kill me and it may be forced to return to its hell, with me."

"You don't know that," Hirotaka countered. "None of us do."

"But we know that I belong to it," Fiske told him. "I am it's creature as long as I bear its mark, and only...it...can...remove the mark." Fiske suddenly stood wide eyed, as if inspiration had struck.

"Whatever we do, we need to do it now!" Kim snapped. The Yono had slashed twice more at Ron and the boy had managed to block the attacks, but had left himself vulnerable to several powerful knee strikes to his belly. He slumped to the ground and the Yono grabbed him by the hair and hoisted him off of his feet.

"Right!" Fiske shouted, taking the Lotus Blade, in knuckleduster form, from his right hand and fitting it onto his left. "Open a gap, I have to reach the two of them!"

Even though Kim didn't trust Fiske, she was grateful for the opportunity to do something. Before the others could react, she rushed directly at the Yono and engaged the first creature to stand in her way. Another moved to attack her, but Dr. Director met it. Yori and Hirotaka slipped by the two Americans, and were in turn intercepted by additional creatures. Fiske came last, leaping onto Hirotaka's shoulders then using the additional height to dive over the rest of the Yono's minions. They pursued him, but he hit the ground in a forward roll and was on his feet, sprinting at the demon.

"Behold the champion of Yamanouchi!" Yono roared, holding a feebly struggling Ron off of the ground. "See what resistance brings you!" It brandished the claws on its other hand, clearly about to finish Ron when Fisk plowed into it.

Kim had expected him to change the Lotus Blade into a spear or sword and strike down the demon before it knew what hit it. Instead, he plowed bodily into the monster, driving it back a step from sheer impact and causing it to drop Ron. When it roared in rage, he lashed out with his left fist, driving it deep into the open maw.

The great jaws closed and Fiske staggered back, clutching a bloody stump where his left hand used to be, to fall next to Ron.

"Stoppable," he gasped, even as Kim dodged a creature, taking a glancing shot to her shoulder. "The blade..."

Somehow, despite the beating, Ron understood his adversary. He raised a shaking hand and suddenly, a glowing, blue blade emerged from between the Yono's ribs. Then, answering its master's call, if flew to Ron, carving its way through the monster.

The Yono had but a moment to look down at the gaping wound where it's belly used to be. It opened its jaws, to scream or curse, Kim didn't know, before falling on its face. Around her, the Yono's creatures were suddenly disoriented, rough-looking men. Some fled, some dropped to the ground to await their fate, but Kim could care less. Ron had dropped to the ground the moment the Lotus Blade's hilt slapped into his hand. By the time she reached her fiance, Dr. Director had caught up to her.

"Ron, you have to stay with me, stay awake!" She called to her fiance.

"The...Yono...what..." he tried to ask.

"The Yono's gone," she assured him. "You and Fiske, you killed it."

"Good," he drew in a tired breath.

"Now, you have to stay with me, we'll get you fixed up and back home," she told him. She pulled a first aid kit from her pouch and started to work on the worst of his wounds. He wasn't just hurt; he seemed drained. His athletic build was now soft and atrophied; the wounds just didn't explain that.

"I'm so tired," he whispered.

"I know, but you have to stay awake!" She struggled to keep a bit of calm in her voice. She activated her wrist-mounted Kimmunicator. "Wade, we need emergency medical response! Ron's hurt, so are several bystanders and.." she hesitated, "so is Fiske."

"Understood," his voice announced. "There's massive response coming your way. I'm trying to let them know what's happening."

Kim could only nod, knowing that the cameras he had installed on the device would pick up the gesture. She continued to bandage the worst of Ron's wounds, deliberately jolting him to keep him awake, but it was getting harder and harder. Soon footsteps, a lot of rushing feet, sounded behind her. Looking behind her, she saw what appeared to be a swarm of armed soldiers rushing her way. She had a moment's panic before an elderly Chinese man stepped forward, accompanied by Master Sensei.

"It is excellent that you have come," Wade had left a translator function on the Kimmunicator, so Kim could understand the old man's speech. "I am Master Lishi, head researcher of this site. A group of cultists, believing themselves the servants of a God of Destruction, attempted to desecrate this cultural treasure. A group of Japanese archaeologists, along with the renown Lord Fiske, defended our birthright, with the assistance of Dr. Director of Global Justice and Kim Possible. There were casualties taken on both sides, so we have greater need of your medics than your rifles. There will be no need for violence, unless those cultists who remain chose to resist you."

For a moment, the officer in charge; Kim couldn't read the rank on his uniform, seemed to consider this. Finally, the soldier bowed to the older man.

"My men are at your disposal, elder," he stated. "Will you be so kind to point out the assailants from the others, so that we know who may try to fight us?"

Kim released a breath that she didn't know she had been holding.

* * *

A beeping tone, accompanied by the harsh scent of an antiseptic cleaner, brought Fiske to consciousness. His first sensation was pain; prompting him to recall the desperate fight at the tomb and being hoisted into an ambulance afterwards. He must have passed out at that point, as he had no further memories. He opened his eyes to bright lights and Dr. Director's concerned face. The woman's hair was unkempt and her eye was ringed with a dark circle. Her clothing was torn and dirty yet she seemed the most desirable woman he had ever seen.

"Have I gone to heaven?" He asked, honestly wondering if it were the case. The one-eyed woman, hardened by years of difficult and sometimes harsh service, blushed like a teen.

"No, and isn't Iowa, either."

Montgomery Fiske, student of Yamanouchi, realized that he was resting in a hospital bed. He further realized that between pain medications and other effects, his mental capabilities were probably compromised. Sighing, he tried to bring his left hand to his field of vision, confirming that his hand was missing.

"Do you remember losing the hand?" Dr. Director asked him.

"Freeing myself from the Yono," he answered, after thinking about it.

"And saving the world from him, as well," Dr. Director added.

Fiske took several bracing breaths, not really wanting to hear the answer to the question he had to ask. "How bad was the carnage?"

"Over a dozen dead," she sighed. "Tourists and workers at the site. They were caught in the middle when the Yono attacked."

Fiske closed his eyes and accepted the guilt. After several minutes, he was able to face her again. "What of our party?"

"Six Yamanouchi ninja are dead," she told him. "Three more are injured to the point that they're going to have to find another career. Another nine are injured, but will recover..in time. You're the worst injured...physically."

"Physically?" He tilted his head in confusion.

"Stoppable," the one-eyed woman said. "I'll let Master Sensei explain it. He understands these things better than I do." She rose to her feet. "The doctors say you'll make a full recovery, with the exception of your missing hand. I have to go face the press, as well as a room full of national and local authorities. I'll see you tonight...if you want me to visit."

"I look forward to it," Monty told her.

She paused at the door and thought for a moment. "Oh what the hell," she shook her head. "I'll never forgive myself if I don't." She stalked back to his bed, gave him a short, but passionate kiss on the mouth, then spun and left a very stunned Montgomery Fiske staring at the door.

He was still staring, several minutes later, when Ron guided his wheelchair through the same door.

For several more minutes, the two just looked at each other. Finally, Fiske broke the silence.

"If this were our usual interaction, I would say something insulting," he told the younger man. "However, I seem to be unable to do so. You're a good and brave man, Ronald, or I'm no judge."

"I can't say the same for you, yet." Ron answered, his voice a pained whisper. "I'm too young to be a judge, but I think you're on the right path." He paused for a few moments. "I'd like to give you this," with a spotted, shaking hand, the young man held up a harmonica and handed it to the Englishman.

"I don't play this instrum..." Monty began to protest, stopping when he touched it realized what it actually was. "This is a precious gift."

"Gift?" Ron actually snorted in disgusted amusement. This is about the heaviest piece of metal in the world. Trust me, it's no gift."

"Perhaps for those who have always acted with honor," Fiske murmured back. "For one who's trying to regain honor, it's an opportunity. Are you sure you wish to part with it?"

"I'm sure," the blonde looked down for a moment. "It might make a pretty good prosthetic for you."

"Ronald," Fiske changed the topic of conversation. "Why are you in a wheelchair, wrinkled like an old man and why has your hair gone gray?"

"My chi has been drained," Ron murmured, bitterly. "Channeling the MMP, being exposed to Yono's wrath...well, I probably would have agreed if I'd known what was going to happen but that's not Yamanouchi's style, is it? You think you're doing the right thing, but there's a bigger price to pay than you thought. I guess someone had to pay it."

"Is there a cure?" Fiske was honestly concerned.

"Time, maybe," Ron shrugged. "According to Master Sensei, my chi may regenerate in the next two moons or so. If not...well...I'll have to see if gray looks distinguished on me."

Fiske dropped his head, fully aware that the Yono would never have heard of Stoppable if not for him. The guilt was getting heavier.

"I can't say that I wish you well," Ron told him. "But I can honestly say that I hope you can turn your life around." The young-old man turned his wheelchair around and guided it back through the door.

"Ronald," Fiske managed to say, when Ron was in the doorway. "I would offer apologies to you, but that would be more to salve my own conscious than to offer you any comfort. Instead, let me say that I honestly hope that this is the last meeting I will have with you."

Ron didn't answer, he simply nodded and wheeled himself away.

Fortunately for Monty, he didn't have to keep company with his dark thoughts for long. Master Sensei glided into his room and stood, contemplating him.

"So, have you decided that you efforts to rehabilitate me are doomed to failure," Fiske asked the man. There was no heat in his words, simply a question. "Innocents dead, even your own students fallen and a young man grown old and weak before his time. What is to become of me now?"

"This isn't fully your evil," the old man took a chair. "True, you called upon the Yono initially but this latest attack was not of your doing. Yes, I will mourn my students who fell. Yes, I feel the same grief that a father would upon losing children, yet it was Dr. Hall's actions that brought the Yono forth. You stood shoulder to shoulder with my own students in fighting to defeat him and paid a heavy price of your own. As for young Stoppable, his chi should regenerate enough for him to be out of the wheelchair in the next day. His vitality should fully return within the next six; as long as he is surrounded by those who have positive thoughts towards him."

"Like a fiance who loves him in every way a woman can love a man," Fiske stated.

"And an adoptive sister who looks up to him," Sensei added. "A gruff coach who guides him even as he demands his greatest efforts, teammates who support him even as they rely upon his performance, four adults who consider him a son and two future brothers-in-law who already consider him a brother."

"And an unwholesomely clever rat that doesn't seem to know which one is the pet," Fiske added, although with a rueful smile.

"I am more concerned with you, my student."

"Me?" Fiske shook his head. "Why concern yourself with me?"

"You did a brave thing and paid a steep price because of it," Sensei reminded him. "Many would consider that justification to quit following the honorable path."

"I can't help but think that if I had followed that path from the beginning, so much of this would have never happened."

"That's good to hear," Sensei rose. "Within a week, you will be recovered enough to be released. When that happens, you will find hiking gear and a small sum of money is waiting you. If you feel that you are rehabilitated to the point that you can return to your estate, Yamanouchi will make no effort to thwart you. You will not find yourself under attack from my organization. However, should you decide that you need more guidance and that you can provide more knowledge to my students, you will be welcome at my school. The choice is yours."

The old man rose and glided out, still looking just a touch unsteady. Fiske decided that it wasn't the time to question the man.

That evening, Dr. Director returned to visit him. She had taken the time to put on a clean uniform and clean up. The only signs of her ordeal were the dark circle around her eye and several contusions she had sustained during the fight.

"Please come in, Dr. Director," he greeted her. "I am afraid I was most rude during our last meeting."

"There's been a lot of rudeness about everything," she told him. "You may have noticed that you haven't had many visitors; the Chinese authorities are keeping most people clear from the wounded until they can put the finishing touches on the cover story."

"And this story is?" He prompted.

"That a cult formed up and attacked the tomb," she told him. "They thought that desecrating the body of the first emperor would unleash an evil god to do their bidding. Most of them had taken narcotics to give them great courage and hyper strength. Some of them even wore animal skins to emulate this dark god, that they called Yono the Destroyer. It just so happened that the English archaeologist, Lord Montgomery Fiske, who had spent the last few years in seclusion so that he could do his research without interruption, was performing non-invasive research at the tomb, with the help of some Japanese students. This group held off the cult until police and soldiers could converge."

"Interesting," he noted. "Two parts truth for every bit of a lie."

"For politics, that's actually a pretty rich mixture," she offered a pained smile. "Monty, I'm going to have to leave, as in the next five minutes." She flinched slightly. "Actually, I'm several minutes overdue. I have an aircraft hovering over the roof of this hospital with a very impatient pilot who wants to get me on to my next responsibility before there's hell to pay but I took the time to come here and say this; I don't know exactly what it is that I want from you, but I know that it's more than comradeship and friendship."

"I...find myself in much the same position Dr. Dire...Betty," he admitted.

"That's fair enough," she nodded. "I'm going to be dealing with the fallout from this attack, as well as issues I put on the back burner to deal with Yamanouchi, for some time. You will be released before I have a chance to get back here. When I find the time to visit Japan, or England, or wherever you choose to go, I hope that we can find the time to discuss what we want."

"I very much look forward to th..." Monty's answer was cut off by her mouth on his own. This time, he wasn't so dumbfounded that he couldn't react. His good arm wrapped around her body, reveling in the mystery of how such solid muscle could still have such a feminine appeal.

He lost track of the time and was saddened when she broke contact with him. Reluctantly, he let her go.

"Until I get back," she said.

"I'll be waiting," he assured her. Then she was gone.

* * *

"This isn't going to be your usual exit, is it, Miss Possible?"

"No," Kim answered the pilot. "After the last mission, we're not up to parachuting just yet."

"Understood," he nodded. "We'll be landing in Middleton in about twenty minutes."

Kim nodded her thanks and looked into the back of the small, charter aircraft, to where Ron was sleeping. Wade had done the best that he could, but dealing with Ron's sudden frailty and the need to keep things secret meant that speed had been sacrificed. It had taken nearly two days, since Ron's release from the hospital, to make it home. Fortunately, Ron had slept a great deal of that time.

 _"His chi has been drained,_ " Master Sensei had told her. " _Surround him with people who love him; surround him with positive energy and he will recover quickly._ "

She didn't trust Sensei but she didn't know what else to do; this wasn't something you could just take to a doctor. Instead, she had confided in Wade and the young man had done his best; setting up discrete rides home and working up a cover story that would explain their absence from college for a couple of weeks. Now, as they descended towards a general aviation airstrip outside of Middleton, it was only a matter of trying to explain the sitch to their families. She noted that her parents' minivan was waiting in the parking lot and realized that the explanations were going to start very soon.

"We're about to land, Ron," she reached back to give him a slight prod. "We're home."

He didn't wake up as fast as he had last week, but at least he was aware and alert, talking to her as the small plane landed. He was the same Ron she had always known, just...drained.

While he was no longer in a wheelchair, he was clearly not well. Beyond the wounds he had taken, he acted more tired than he should be. He was moving stiffly, as if his joints hurt, and he had taken no damage to his legs. All and all, he moved like a man in his seventies. She and the pilot helped him down the steep stairs from the plane to the ground, then Kim fetched their minimal baggage. She braced herself when she saw both of their fathers waiting them in the terminal.

"Doctor Director met with us," Gene Stoppable told them. He was obviously working to keep the dismay upon seeing his son's condition from showing on his face. "She told us of what happened; the real story, not the official one."

"We've set up our den for the two of you to take your classes virtually, at least for a week," Dr. Possible told them. "We'll make a decision after the first week. For now, it's getting late and you're probably both tired and hungry. Let's get you fed and settled in."

The men loaded their children into the van. To the young adults' surprise, they drove to the Possible home, where the fathers ushered them both out. They were further shocked when Mr. Stoppable unloaded Ron's bags, as well as Kim's. The third shock was when they saw the full families gathered to greet them and the dining room table set to feed the combined families.

"We thought we'd have a surprise for you," Mrs. Stoppable told them, although her face also showed the shock she felt. Mrs. Dr. Possible was also initially taken aback, but also managed to recover quickly. Soon, the two young adults were seated, eating and talking with the combined families. Rufus took a spot on Ron's shoulder and Hana insisted on sitting on her big brother's lap. Kim noted that Ron was smiling widely, if wearily.

After the meal, the stress of the last couple of days became apparent for Kim and Ron; both showed their weariness to the point that even Jim and Tim could tell that they had been through some rough events.

"Let's get Ronald to his room," Mr. Stoppable suggested. "Kim, James, can you help me?"

Both Kim and Ron stared at their fathers.

"Dr. Director told us that Ron would be a little impeded for a few days," Mrs. Stoppable told them. "Since you're going to be taking classes here anyway, it will be easier if he stays here. Also, there's fewer stairs to the Possible's spare room than to his attic room. James and Anne were kind enough to offer."

With the explanations taken care of, Mr. Stoppable grabbed his bag and James led them to the Possibles' guest room. While Ron insisted on putting away his own clothing, the fathers closed the door behind them and directed serious expressions at their children.

"Kim," James told his daughter. "You'll be joining him here."

Both Kim and Ron stared at the adults, eyes wider than they were before.

"According to Dr. Director, Ronald will heal faster if those who love him stay close to him," Mr. Stoppable told them. "So we thought that you could sleep together while he's healing...if it isn't too much trouble."

"No trouble," Kim assured her future father-in-law, blushing furiously. "I like being with Ron. And it's for his own good..."

"We thought it would do you some good, as well," James told her.

"It's been a rough mission," Kim admitted. "Being close to each other will be nice."

"Kids," James shook his head, smiling sadly. "We know you're...active."

Now, four eyelids threatened to slap two scalps.

"We're not upset," Mr. Stoppable told them. "You've been discrete and responsible."

"But no funny business under my roof," James told them, although a resigned smile took the sting out of the words. "Hero or not, Ronald, a black hole is one way."

Threats aside, Kim and Ron were both exhausted and they could hear that Mrs. Stoppable was saying her farewells. Kim went to her room to unpack and put on her pajamas, and give Ron some privacy to prepare for bed. She was running a brush through her hair when her mother joined her.

"Don't worry about your brothers," she assured her daughter. "We told them that the two of you were very upset and that you needed to be together."

"Do they suspect..." Kim left the statement open.

"I don't think so," Anne put a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "They're sixteen, but they're more interested in fun than romance from girls. They know you have a lot of fun with Ron and they don't think much beyond that."

"Wait a couple of years," Kim smiled. "Once they discover girls, they're going to be a handful."

"I honestly hope they follow the example you and Ron are setting." Anne told her. "Now, why don't you try to get some sleep, you're just about falling over."

Kim padded barefoot to the guest room to find Ron already asleep, Rufus curled up next to his head. She smiled as she turned off the light, closed the door and slid between the sheets. If anyone could come close to loving Ron as much as her, it was Rufus.

The guest room was a little chillier than she liked, so she turned on her side and put her back and butt up against her fiance, soon feeling much warmer. Her relationship with this young man had so many facets: he was her best friend, her partner, her lover, even a classmate and sparring partner. Now, she just needed a butt-warming device and he was pretty good at that, as well. Within minutes of her head meeting the pillow, she was fast asleep and didn't wake up until her mom knocked on the door, telling them it was seven o'clock in the morning.

While it was a little awkward to attend classes virtually, it was more convenient. Not only did the two have to keep up with their classes, they had to make up for lost time. Most of the day was spent cramming on academics and making solid progress on their backlogs. Kim studied Ron, as well. He had more energy today, which could be accounted for by a good night's sleep but still...he seemed noticeably more spry even if he wasn't his usual self.

About four o'clock in the afternoon, Mrs. Stoppable called and spoke to Ron for several minutes. "Mom's hostessing the combined dinner tonight," he reported to her. "So she's asking if I can come over and help with the preparations. She says she's still a little shook up about how beat up I was, so she'd feel better if we could spend the night at their place, if it's okay with you."

Kim saw no problem. It might mean a little more travel between the houses to attend classes, but if it made her future mother-in-law feel better to have her son under her roof, it was worth a little extra walking. Besides, the exercise might be good for Ron. The two packed bags, sent texts for her folks and walked to the Stoppables. Kim watched Ron closely, and he seemed to be handling the activity with no problems; just slower than usual.

With Kim's well-earned kitchen reputation, she was assigned Hana watching duty while the two Stoppables went to work on the meal. The redhead didn't mind, as she considered Hana to be an absolute delight. Time flew and before Kim knew it, the combined families were gathered around the Stoppable's table, sharing food and conversation. Sure, it was supposed to be to help Ron, but it seemed so enjoyable for everyone.

After the meal, the elder Stoppables pulled out some old board games: Risk, Monopoly and Stratego. At first, Kim thought it was silly but she found herself really getting into the good-natured competition. The next thing she knew, another two hours had gone by. Looking at Ron, she could see that he was enjoying himself, but wearing down.

Mrs. Stoppable also spotted her son showing fatigue and hinted that it was time to break up the festivities. Although the twins complained a little, it was getting rather late. Rather than putting the young adults in Ron's attic room, the Stoppables had given them their guest room, on the second floor. There just seemed something weird about getting into bed with Ron, with both sets of parents fully aware of it, even if nothing romantic was going to happen. Well, nothing beyond a few kisses and holding each other. Again, Kim quickly followed Ron into slumber.

Sometime during the night, a stealthy thump sounded from down the hall, waking her. For a moment or two, she held her breath, listening.

Pit...pat...pit...pat...pitter patter pitterpatterpitterpatter.

Knowing what she would see, she opened her eyes towards the door to see it open and admit Hana. The dim light from the hallway revealed the little girl to be wearing a Fearless Ferret nightshirt. All said, she was almost nauseatingly cute.

"What's wrong, Hana?" Kim whispered.

"I wanna make sure my brother's okay," the tot informed her, she scampered around the bed to slither between the sheets next to Ron.

Kim could only shake her head; since she and Ron were very close together, there was sufficient room for the little girl, as well. Kim was quickly back asleep and didn't wake up until Mrs. Stoppable knocked on the door, telling them it was seven in the morning. Reaching over to wake her fiance, Kim's eyes flew wide. Almost a quarter of Ron's gray hair had returned to blonde and there were considerably fewer wrinkles on his face. Hana sat up and provided an adorable yawn and stretch. She then gave Ron a quick hug before scampering off. Kim started to have some suspicions.

Again, it was a day of academic catch up, although it wasn't as desperate as it was before. Ron also seemed more alert and less drained, so in the afternoon they had a little walk through a nearby park.

Because everyone had seen how much Ron had improved from his one night at home, everyone agreed that the engaged couple would spend nights with the Stoppables. Two more nights in the Stoppable's guest room, with Hana sneaking in during the night to 'check on her brother', had Ron looking so much like himself that it was obvious he would be able to return to Upperton University come Monday. The parents also decided that the couple could go back to sleeping in separate beds, something that the engaged couple really wasn't looking forward to. They liked being close to each other, even if nothing was really going to happen.

But, that was okay. Maybe a little denial would make them both appreciate it more when they moved in with each other, permanently. It wasn't going to be an easy path, but they would make it. Ron was getting better and the spring football program would put the finishing touches on his physical recovery. They were still behind in their classes, but they were catching up. Finally, he had set aside the burden that came with the Lotus Blade, and being the champion of Yamanouchi. He had saved the world from an extraterrestrial invasion and had helped save it from the Yono, and that was enough for one person. What her future would hold, she couldn't say. Maybe she would join Global Justice, on her own terms. Maybe other employment would be in the works. It didn't matter, she and her husband-to-be would face the possibilities together.

* * *

The bus stopped at the side of the road, allowing the one-handed man to exit. With a polite nod, he indicated to the driver that he was clear and the bus could continue on its journey. As the vehicle disappeared down the winding road, the traveler hoisted his pack to his back and contemplated his course.

Only a privileged...or perhaps cursed...group would ever climb Mount Yamanouchi to the summit. Most of those who started the journey up the slope eventually turned back of their own accord. Those who continued would inevitably meet a polite wanderer who would tell them that they were trespassing upon private property. Those who ignored this gentle dismissal would eventually meet someone more stern and insistent. Those who still didn't take the hint found more painful discouragement.

Montgomery Fiske had no doubt that he was being observed, and this made him curious about how he had managed to sneak all the way up this mountain and into the secret institution at the summit, more than once, previous to this. The inhabitants had not let him pass, he was sure of that. His success bespoke fate; or perhaps manipulation, by something older, larger, and more patient than the ancient organization. Perhaps he was still being manipulated, but perhaps there was compensation for playing the part that had been set for him. Whatever the case, he was a happier man as he took his first steps upwards today than he had been in many years.

It wasn't long before he encountered another hiker. She was a fit woman, maybe a couple of years younger than himself. She wore conservative shorts and a long sleeved shirt. While she leaned slightly on a walking stick as she rose from the rock on which she had been waiting, he could see that she moved with balance and grace. Her short hair framed a broad yet attractive face. One dark eye appraised him while a patch covered its counterpart.

"By your attire, may I assume that I am addressing Betty Director, rather than Doctor Director?" Fiske asked.

"That's a safe assumption," he answered. While she walked quickly to within a few feet of him, she hesitated to close the last little bit of distance.

"While I must say that it is very nice to see you, for a variety of reasons, could I inquire how and why it is that I find you here?" Fiske also felt hesitant to close the last distance.

"For the how, I knew that a certain nobleman had recently been discharged from a Chinese hospital. If this nobleman had wanted to return to his home and privilege, he would have caught a flight back to England. On the other hand, if that nobleman had decided that he needed a little more guidance before returning home, he would catch a flight to Japan."

"As to the why," now, she shyly lowered her gaze. "If that nobleman was looking for that little bit more guidance, I thought he might want some company on a mountain trail. Since he was seeking to better himself, I wanted to be the one who provided that company."

Montgomery Fiske found the last admission, combined with her shyness, to be utterly enchanting.

"Well, in your case, the company is very much appreciated." Bracing himself for the worst, he stepped forward and brought his lips to hers.

He had tried for a quick peck, much like the one that had left him so stunned back in the hospital. She, on the other hand, refused to let the contact go. They wound up kissing for several minutes, his arms around her waist and hers around his neck.

"We agreed to talk when we met again," she told him.

"Yes, yes we did," he assured her. "I've never been in a real relationship, so perhaps we could start by you telling me what you are looking for."

And they talked. They talked about what they were looking for from a romantic partner and what they expected to provide in return. Both learned from the honest words. Fiske learned that any potential mate would not be ready to simply uproot her life in order to take up a relationship with him. Director learned the same and began to understand her own failed relationships. They had just started to speak of compromise and flexibility when the walls of Yamanouchi came into sight, with Sensei himself standing in front of the main gate.

"Very well, Lord Fiske," the old man addressed his student. "It would appear that you have decided to return to us. Perhaps you could tell me why?"

"I believe that I have learned the lessons that you have taught me," Fiske answered. "But I know that I have a great deal yet to learn. I had hopes that I could continue to learn of honor, while imparting lessons in history and lore."

"A very good answer," Sensei nodded, looking pointedly at the metallic hook gracing Fiske's left wrist. "And it appears that you must learn to accept another role, as well."

He then turned to Dr. Director. "Dr. Director, I see that you are not wearing a training gi or your uniform. What brings you to Yamanouchi under these circumstances?"

"I was meeting a dear friend on the mountain," she told her ally. "And hoped I could impose upon you for lodging for the night."

"There will be no imposition," the old man assured her. "In fact, let us dine together tonight, the three of us, and discuss the future."

To both Betty's and Monty's delight, Master Sensei proved to be a gregarious dinner host, regaling them with tales of his misadventures through his years as first a student, then a master at Yamanouchi. Both of his guests were amazed, although they shouldn't have been, that this wise old man had once been a much younger man, who had more boldness than wisdom and more energy than restraint.

"But I can now see the end," the old man told them. "Master Taku has started to manifest the abilities to levitate and call energy from his hands. Soon, he will be the new Master Sensei and I will be free to live out what few years remain to me without the burden of responsibility."

"But the school will be so much less with your absence!" Fiske protested.

"No," the old man shook his head, a gentle smile showing through his mustache. "There were three Master Sensei's while I worked my way up the Yamanouchi ranks and I thought the same for the first two. When my predecessor assumed his station, I realized that each takes wisdom from those who came before. Master Taku will benefit from what wisdom I have mastered. The chain will remain unbroken and Yamanouchi will endure and thrive under his direction."

"But enough of an old man's nostalgia," he declared. "Dr. Director, you will probably want to be on the trail shortly after dawn and Lord Fiske, you will have trying students awaiting you on the morrow. Yamanouchi remains in mourning, so our usual, early morning activities have been postponed. I bid you both good night."

The guests bowed their way from the old man's study. Once outside, Fiske escorted Betty to her quarters, but did not linger. Some affections needed to be kept secret, at least as much as possible, even in a school full of ninja. Instead of retiring to his quarters, Fiske chose to visit the garden, near the pool of Tumultuous Harmony. There, he meditated and sought wisdom once again. Finished with his devotions, he rose to his feet and found Betty standing a respectful distance away.

"What answers did you seek this time?" She asked him, simple curiosity in her voice.

"How to guide my life, when I no longer have instructors around me," he told her.

"And did you receive any answers?"

"The only answer was that there was no answer," he smiled at the irony. "There will be nobody to tell me right from wrong, no harsh lessons driven through my stubborn skull with pain and fear. I must follow the moral code I have learned, that I continue to learn, and make the best decision I can. Of course, I can always contact those I've learned to respect; Hirotaka, Master Sensei, the other masters of this school, Bates and, hopefully, you."

"You can always call me," Betty assured him. She spread an emergency blanket on the ground, sat and patted it to encourage Fiske to sit with her. There was no hesitation on his part and with the two sitting next to each other, she spoke some more.

"Monty, I think we've agreed that we're going to try to make a...romantic relationship work between the two of us."

He nodded.

"It's going to be difficult, but I think we're both capable of handling difficult things." She took a deep breath. "I'm leaving in the morning and I'll be gone for months. Maybe this isn't the best way to bring this up, but I don't want to just walk away...I want...well..." Rather than finish her statement, she reached out to him and pulled his face down to meet her own.

* * *

While the various classes and other activities for Yamanouchi had been postponed for the morning, a ninja school throve on unofficial activities, as much as official ones. Yori settled her pack onto her shoulders and looked over her quarters. None of her possessions remained, the rooms were spartan and clean, awaiting the next senior student. Without so much as a sigh, she stepped into a hallway, pulled the door shut, and the quarters were no longer her own.

It took willpower, but not much, to walk by her cousin's door without pausing. Such a meeting would only make things more difficult for the two of them. If doubts sufficient to make her question her decision were present, which they were not, she only had to recall what she had seen in the garden by the waterfall the previous night to firm her resolve. Without making a sound, she walked out of the building holding the senior student's quarters.

She did not go to Yamanouchi's main gate; that portal was for open welcomes and farewells. This was a different sort of exit, the sort that wasn't announced for all to know. Still, certain farewells needed to be said. Master Sensei awaited by a side gate.

"Master Sensei," she greeted him with a bow.

"Yori," he replied, also bowing. "If this were stylized fiction, this would be the time that I give you one last chance to turn away from your path, but I will not do so. I know that you have come to this decision after careful deliberation...and failures on my part."

Courtesy from a subordinate to a master demanded that Yori deny his failure, but honesty from one to another bid her to remain silent. Yori said nothing.

"Of course, you know that we need not be foes," he continued. "And that we can continue to be associates."

"I fully intend to maintain in association," she told him.

Yori was aware that any intelligence organization, such as Yamanouchi, depended upon countless people observing what seemed to be inconsequential details. Yamanouchi maintained an extensive network of such observers; former students who had not passed the stringent courses, as well as older or injured ninja who could no longer perform at the high level required of a strike team member. Several of her missions had consisted of meeting with such individuals, taking their reports and giving them targets to observe.

"Yet you have not accepted any of my offers," he prompted.

Yori could only smile in response.

A smile quickly showed on Sensei's face. "When you find your destination, contact me."

"I will, master," she bowed again, turned, and left the school.

Master Sensei was no longer her master.

On the mountain path, she paused and appreciated the sweeping vista in a way she had never seen it before. The path at her feet led to all that she could see and much that she could not. Far off, she saw an airliner rising from Tokyo. Would she go to Tokyo and if so, would it be her final destination? Would she find somewhere else in Japan or would she take a ship or a plane beyond this? Her English was excellent, as was her Mandarin and Korean. Most of the world was open to her.

Taking a deep breath, and feeling a freedom that she had never known she had denied herself, she took the first step of her new life.

The possibilities were infinite.

* * *

 _A/N: And so we reach the end of this tale. I thank anyone and everyone who took the time to drop me a review or a PM. I would like to give a shoutout to Jimmy1201, Acosta Perez Jose Ramiro, CajunBear 73 and Sentinel 103; you guys read and reviewed every chapter and I really appreciate the motivation that gave me. Finally, and most importantly, my thanks to Joe Stoppinghem for beta reading._

 _Until next we meet, my best wishes to all,_

 _daccu65_


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